


Punishment for the Sneak

by Scoutsintoskirms



Series: Marietta's Nightmares of the Lewd [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Probing, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bondage, Bullying, Cock Slut, Competition, Corporal Punishment, Corruption, Creampie, Cruelty, Dehumanization, Drunk Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Orgasm, Groping, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Kindly returning wands, Lesbian Rape, Licking, Love Potion/Spell, Manipulation, Masturbation Interruptus, Mental Coercion, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Nipple Licking, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Consensual Groping, Partial Nudity, Public Blow Jobs, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Revenge Sex, Reversal of Fortune, Self-Denial, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sheltered, Spanking, Stripping, Succubi & Incubi, The Sorting Hat, Threesome - F/M/M, casual nudity, if you could call it that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoutsintoskirms/pseuds/Scoutsintoskirms
Summary: Marietta Edgecombe asks what the punishment for betraying the D.A, would be, leading to its escalation in light of the possibility of prison time if found out. Her human status is magically revoked, meaning no one recognizes her as a person or particularly cares that she exists. Eventually caving to her need for human contact, she gets it any way she can, making use of her remaining assets to negotiate some semblance of meaning in her life.TL;DR: unrepentant traitor gets what she deserves
Series: Marietta's Nightmares of the Lewd [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886938
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69





	1. Dear Sneak

Marietta’s curse was difficult to explain from the outside looking in, she supposed. There was nothing functionally wrong with her, and if she looked in the mirror, she would not have been able to tell she was under any malicious magic, except when someone shoved her away from her reflection without a second thought. She was used to such treatment, though, and it was substantially milder than other experiences she could name.

Put simply, it was not as if anyone hated her, or could not see her, they ignored her as they might a fly on the wall, and when she failed to stay out of their way, they treated her with the indifference reserved for a fly to be swatted. Moving through crowds had become such a painful experience she had grown accustomed to waiting for them to clear or at least thin out, though sometimes she got ahead of them. It was a substandard existence to be sure, but it was an existence, so she supposed she should be grateful.

She no longer agonized over her former friend getting her to join the Defense Association, something she knew she had been stupid to go along with, and worse to betray, since she could have just stopped attending. Being honest with herself, what stood out as her real mistake was asking what measures were in place to prevent people from ratting them out; she hardly wanted to be caught with her name on such a list.

The moment came back to her, not for the first time.

“Well, I thought it better to keep it a secret, but since you asked, and it is important, I’ve placed an enchantment on the parchment with our names,” Hermione Granger had explained. “Anyone who talks about the group with anyone whose name is not on the list will be cursed with… well, a fittingly unpleasant appearance.”

It seemed obvious to Marietta that she was putting it mildly out of politeness, since it would demonstrate a lack of faith by declaring the exact nature of the curse like a threat, but some of her friends saw it differently.

“That’s it?” Harry Potter asked. “I mean, I’m sure it’s an incredibly complex bit of magic-“

“It should be worse,” a tall boy with red hair asserted. “Harry could be going to Azkaban over this- really, all of us-“

“Well, I suppose it is a bit mild, but what I was thinking at the time was that we would know who did it, and then be able to respond appropriately,” Hermione explained. “There’s some chance that the secret could be revealed to one person, and not go any further than that, and it also might be an accident-“

“It’s an accident that’s easy to avoid, especially when you know what could happen,” said someone Marietta did not know.

“Frankly, I would prefer to attach a more severe punishment to the curse, and be done with it,” opined another. “I wouldn’t want anything to do with a traitor.”

“Neither would I.” Marietta had a thought that the witch speaking could be the sister of the red-haired wizard. “I think that person should be completely cut off.”

“It has to be at least as bad as prison for it to make sense,” one of the wizards from before decided. “If you put a dozen people in Azkaban, you should get something that’s like going there, only a dozen times over. That way, each one of us would want to keep the secret as much as everyone else wants us to keep it.” Marietta had a thought that the wizard had a future in law, or perhaps public policy. He wore a blue tie, but she did not know everyone from Ravenclaw.

Essentially, it was agreed that a different curse would be applied to the parchment, one that would, as it was explained, make a traitor permanently ignored, never again regarded as a human. She knew Granger had something of a banner for the rights of non-humans that she waved about, so from the sound of it, the subject would be treated like an elf or perhaps a centaur, the idea being to demonstrate their sad lot in life. Marietta usually rolled her eyes at the notion, not bothering to make the case with the idealistic children that if the creatures of near-human intelligence wanted to be regarded as equals, they could go through the proper channels. It would do wonders for their case that they could actually adopt the customs of wizards.

When she eventually decided that whatever the effects of the curse, they could be negated, she reported the activities of Dumbledore’s Army to the proper authorities, but was quite shocked to find they did not have anything to say to her in response. She remembered following Professor Umbridge quite a way, waiting to hear something that would tell her she was out of the woods herself, but it appeared she was more concerned with assembling the Inquisitorial Squad and putting the matter to rest. Over the next several hours, she expected to have to testify, but was surprised to find no one asked her any questions, and to make matters worse, Potter and his friends actually got away with it, even if they lost their favorite Headmaster.

It seemed almost certain at that point that she would be receiving an earful from the people foolish enough to go against official policy, but the earful never came. When she next saw Granger, the witch passed right by her without so much as a glance. They were in the library, so she did not call after her, and it hardly seemed worth the effort, even if she could find out the limitations of the curse. Sighing, she looked around and noticed a couple in violation of the policy about public displays of affection. She went to see the librarian.

“Madam Pince, those students over there, I believe they are violating the rules about proximity and displays of affection.” There was no response. “Excuse me, they are being quite overt. I recognize that the proximity rule is a new one, and some may not be aware of it, but public displays of affection have been considered improper since the foundation of the school.”

Eventually Marietta decided that the librarian was ignoring her, and by extension that the curse made her unnoticeable to staff as well as students, which confirmed what she was starting to suspect in class. She made her way over to the couple in the corner, taking her wand out.

“If the authorities cannot hear me, I shall just have to show them,” she decided. “Failing that, I shall deal with the matter myself.”

The witch and wizard were in a dark corner at the least, but it was quite clear what they were doing upon any kind of inspection. They were kissing quite… passionately, and despite the witch’s playful swatting, the wizard took liberties with his hands. She would not allow him to put one up her skirt, but her head went back as he felt her chest. They seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing, testing their daring to see if it could keep up with their lust.

Marietta made a face and continued watching in what she presumed to be a morbid fascination before casting a leg-locker on the witch, but that only made the wizard chuckle a bit at what he must have guessed to be a sudden development of bashfulness as he guided her hand to his manhood, presumably. She had no desire at all to see what was going on under the table; it was only so she could aim properly that she moved closer.

Casting a full-body-bind just as the witch had a hand on the wizard’s belt, she found the spell blocked by a quickly erected shield. She wondered whether the girl with her wand out cast it to hide her misdeeds or to return Marietta’s spell, remembering there was some possibility they could hear her. Rather than an answer, however, she received a curse from the momentarily scowling wizard, which she dodged.

“Well, clearly I’m not qualified to deal with the both of you. I hope your pleased with yourselves- or each other.” If they heard her jab, it was likely impossible for them to find it funny.

Groaning, she found the table where Hermione had been heading a moment earlier, finding her writing something absently on a length of parchment while reading. Annoyed, if not surprised at her lack of acknowledgement, Marietta sat down across from her and stared. The title of the book indicated it was a history resource, meaning it would be no help in her present situation, but its reader had to know something.

“I know you weren’t the one to think of this petty, juvenile prank as a punishment.” Hermione continued to write, entirely undeterred. “This really is beneath the likes of us, you know. That you’re continuing this at all only means you wish you’d gotten out ahead of me.” The brunette witch’s nose scrunched momentarily. “It was a sinking ship and we all knew it.”

The silent girl got up, leaving the parchment behind.

_Dear Sneak,_

_I have some idea of who you are, but only by process of elimination. I expect your mother, working for the Ministry, amounted to some influence in your treachery, and for that reason I shall grant you the small mercy of explaining your condition. I shall not attempt to remove the curse I have placed on you under any circumstances, so there is no point to any further attempts to contact me. I have asked Madam Pince to expunge the record of all books I have checked out in the past and I have destroyed my own notes._

_I can hear your voice, but I am plainly incapable of caring what you have to say. Have you ever desired to communicate with a flobberworm? Well, they might be your only potential friends at this point; I truly do not know, but you might register as interesting enough. I can see you, and from this ascertain some basic information about you, but your presence does not matter to me unless you are speaking, which is annoying, like a fly buzzing or a wireless set to a volume too low to distinguish words. I shall not remember this encounter because you quite simply do not warrant the expenditure of brain cells._

_The same curse cast on a wizard would likely result in his being held in only the regard for a strange man in close proximity; not a threat, but reason enough for a small child to move away. Other wizards would not think of him at all, except those of an unwelcome variety. You, however, will be treated with the distinction of being female. Should a young man’s eyes pass over your chest, make an attempt not to take any primal sense of satisfaction, as his momentary interest has nothing to do with the nature of your remaining assets or the traitor of which they are part. When male students bump into you or shove you out of the way, expect no sense of shame at the thought of crushing a delicate flower, and expect no tenuous sense of kinship from witches. I can assure you that I do not regard you as competition, and even the pettiest, most insufferable debutantes like Pansy Parkinson would likely say the same. Though young wizards may have a slight physical response to your body, and then only if bare or directly in front of them, there is not a single one among them who thinks of you as a potential mate, and not a decent one who would follow the physical response with a verbal one. Mathematically, there should be some amount of female students at Hogwarts who prefer the same sex, and you would count yourself lucky not to be one of them, as they generally assume witches to be of the majority preference; that you are female will not make you interesting to them._

_The only manner of attention you will receive will be sexual, and you will only receive it from those of the masculine persuasion, and within that only the most lecherous and detestable. I suggest acquainting yourself with Marcus Flint, assuming he is still around here somewhere; if I remember correctly he was quite indiscriminate with the rears he struck out of appreciation, though he might have favored targets unlikely to hex him for such behavior. Make an attempt not to punish such acts, as you will only be held in any positive regard the instant they occur. Perhaps that will be how you can eke out an existence, unless remembered in the form of a notch in the belt of a Casanova type._

There was more to the letter, but Marietta did not bother to read it, scoffing and putting it into a book before putting that into her schoolbag. On the subject, she doubted that Granger had written the entire thing just while sitting there, but it hardly mattered, as long as she was only going to write about how terrible her life would be from then on.

“She’s hardly clever enough to come up with an unbreakable curse, and it is even less likely she could implement something that I could not at least understand,” she decided, scarcely even annoyed by the minor setback. It was true that people had ignored her thus far, but it was not as if she had spoken to everyone. It was far better to keep her head about her than do as the letter suggested, considering it was still highly unlikely the whole thing would not be resolved within the afternoon.

She left the library without further thought on the subject.


	2. Proof of Concept

Breaking curses was not as easy as it sounded conceptually. In short, teachers continued to refuse to talk to her in spite of the many ways she attempted to make contact with them. Written notes would be disregarded, meaning her work was likely being thrown out as well, and communicating by fire call did not seem to get around the effects of the curse. House-elves ignored her the same way witches and wizards did, which perhaps she should have expected.

Her reading was turning up nothing in the short term, but really it seemed spectacularly unfair that she would be doing extensive research to undo something that Granger had done to her- if anything, she should be apologizing, since she was only making it worse for herself in the long run. The moral arc of the universe was long, but it bent toward justice, meaning however long it took, everything would be put right eventually. Marietta maintained that it was impossible for the curse to be perfect, in that some crack in the system could be exploited. With her mother in a respectable position in the Ministry, it would not be long before the consequences started to pile up on her rival.

So far, however, most of Granger’s predictions had been eerily accurate. No heads turned in her direction that she noticed, though that was fine as long as they were not staring at her. She liked to think of herself as perfectly independent, and if she needed anything from others, it was definitely not their approval. Her primary concern was getting her teachers to sign off on her education, of which she was in her sixth year, meaning she had to be applying or at least thinking about employment prospects. For that matter, she had already arranged a position in the Improper Use of Magic office; hardly the head, but a position nonetheless.

If she really, truly, wanted to compete with Granger, she would note that she had not heard of any Ministry appointments in her future.

Really, the entire idea of competing with the witch seemed laughable, except in light of recent circumstances, she could not think of once where Granger had one over on her; their notes could be presumed to be the same, since the teachers usually spoke well of her ability to repeat information one for one. For another, she seemed to associate with wizards almost exclusively, meaning she was one of those internally misogynistic witches who thought that other witches brought drama. Looking at it another way, it was possible she was just in need of the attention they provided, and Marietta smirked at the idea. It would, after all, explain why Granger seemed to think she needed it.

As she was going over these things while walking beside a crowd of students, she looked up at the sound of a slap. It was not quite clear what had taken place, only that they were laughing and making inane comments. A witch was flattening out her skirt, making her wonder if it had been flipped up by a conjured breeze, or worse, manually disrupted, and if either, why she was laughing along instead of retaliating or looking for a teacher.

“That is not funny!” Marietta declared, finding they were not reacting to her at all. One of the wizards in the group waved his wand at the apparent offender, causing him to jump and grab his rear, which everyone found even more amusing. She forced herself to laugh loudly, since it had to be objectively funny, though it was hard to tell what the joke was. Continuing to follow them to see if any further retribution was due the offender, she was disappointed to find they were talking about some other inane thing mere moments after the laughter died down.

In the weeks that followed she found little in the library about human status, since it seemed to be such a nebulous concept, but every book she read about curses did little more than strain her eyes. It was not as if Marietta had an intense desire to communicate with other people again, no, it was increasing concern over academic matters. She was still going to class, still testing herself on the material she was meant to be learning, but there was no way to advance if she did not get credit for her work. There was certainly no way she would not have the matter resolved by her N.E.W.T’s, which were the following year.

Sighing and taking a break from the books at length, she returned to the thought of Granger removing the curse for her. It would certainly be faster, but she would need to cow the witch somewhat for her plan to work. If only she were knocked off her high pedestal in some way, she would feel bad about such a nasty curse on one of her betters. The trouble was, she could hardly demonstrate greater academic prowess without her human status and was consequently faced with a dilemma. She hardly needed to prove herself smarter than Granger’s friends-

“Of course!” she shouted, looking around. Marietta had grown less self-conscious about her volume recently. Getting her things together and leaving at a brisk pace, she set off for the Great Hall, where Granger could be expected to be eating lunch with her friends at such an hour. “She implies that decent wizards exist. Surely, then, her friends would number among them?” She laughed cruelly. “No decent wizard will associate with me, will they, Granger? I suppose, then, that if your friends take an interest, they will prove themselves exactly what kind of friends they are- I bet they even touch themselves!” she predicted, her boldness surprising even her.

She did not allow her mind to dwell on such matters; nothing could matter less to her than what wizards did alone in the dark. The witch had no doubt it was gross, and she definitely wanted no part in it. Animal notions of sensations and feelings were beneath her, but wizards, especially of the younger variety, were entirely beholden to them. Her rival was only being naïve again by thinking otherwise.

Finding the three of them leaving after lunch, she cursed herself for missing the opportunity.

“Harry, what about this evening?” Granger asked.

“I can’t. I have a date with Cho,” he answered, a bit of a glum look on his face. Perhaps the casual observer would not know whether he was disappointed about not being able to make some appointment, but it was clear enough to Marietta that he was uninterested in a date with her friend. Wizards were only after the physical pursuits involved, but were more or less willing to go through the motions of convincing witches otherwise.

Following Potter, he finished his work for History of Magic and shoved it in his schoolbag before heading off to Gryffindor Tower. She doubted she could follow him through the portrait she knew guarded the common room, and she certainly did not have any interest in what was behind it, since that House was all self-aggrandized hero types, but academically it had to be valuable to see if the security would keep out a non-human. She hardly listened to the password he muttered, knowing it would be useless for her to repeat it in the future, and crouched into a short, narrow tunnel after him.

The common room was all garish red and gold, with students lazing around in the chairs. She noticed two younger wizards walking upstairs together- holding hands- and her face twisted from shock to disgust. Putting her palms over her eyes could not get the image out of her mind, which further betrayed her by imagining what they were doing. It was impossible they wanted privacy for chaste reasons, no, in moments she would have to cover her ears before she could hear smacking sounds. Her brain curdled at the thought of them slapping each other on the rear.

Eventually recovering, she noticed Potter lying on a chair like some sort of throne, the scar a heavy crown on his head.

“How important do you think you are?” she asked. “You know, the Minister made no mistake deciding to arrest Dumbledore instead of you- even if it did not work out the way we expected. What have you even done, other than confuse the public with misinformation?”

He seemed to only continue his brooding in response. She noticed that his hand had been marked with almost indistinguishable letters, but she could hardly care what they said.

“Hey, Potter.” He looked up at a dark-skinned Gryffindor she recognized from somewhere. “Don’t you have a detention with Umbridge?”

“She forgot about it at some point,” he muttered back, suddenly hiding his hand. “Might have found more interesting ways of ruining my life; I don’t care what she thinks anymore. I’m not going either way.”

“How dare you!” she objected, looking back and forth between them as the other wizard shook his head with a sad smile.

Convinced the friend of Granger was most certainly not a decent wizard, if such a thing existed, she got out her schoolbag and worked on her Transfiguration, since she would need to free up time later on. Marietta had every intention of being a ‘third wheel’ at their little date- she was almost insulted that Cho had kept it up so long, but she would forgive her friend if she could ever communicate with her again- providing, of course, that they ended things.

At long last the time came and she followed Potter to Madame Puddifoot’s, a popular destination for its low lighting and cutesy atmosphere. Rolling her eyes as Cho joined them, they took a table in a lighter area and ordered tea. The two of them sat next to each other rather than across from each other, so Marietta took the space opposite the wizard.

He did not immediately look at her, but that was no surprise, he had Cho for a visual quarry. Disgusted with herself somewhat, Marietta leaned her chest forward, deciding she needed to send a cruder signal to get his attention. Potter disregarded her. Unfastening a few buttons at the top was a clear enough gesture for a star-faced mole, but still he either failed to notice or was content to wait for her friend.

“Playing the long game, Potter? Well, she’s played more games of Quidditch than you have, so don’t think she knows nothing of your strategies.” She was not particularly listening to their conversation, annoyed that it could be more interesting than her chest, but it seemed they were talking quietly about something serious. “Oh, for a few more cubic centimeters of volume,” she pined sarcastically. “Then I could have the attention of your caveman desires.”

At length deciding she was going to have to make up the difference between herself and Cho with willingness to act, she took off her cloak, and then her shirt, and finally her brassiere, huffing all the way. Marietta had been a bit rash, she knew, but did not regret her actions as the wizard had still failed to notice.

“Oh, come off it, Potter, even Cho can see me. I know you can see, you’re just not looking.” She tried making a small gust of air with her wand, but the tea came out and that took his attention. “Well, it’s not as if I wanted it, I just had a point that needed proving.”

The waitress left.

“Not that it cannot still be proven,” she said, raising an eyebrow. Working up the nerve, she leaned forward, banging the table once. The wizard looked, but she was not satisfied yet. He needed to stare. He needed to give her his undivided attention. Marietta knew what she wanted to prove and she knew how completely useless it would be if Granger could come up with some explanation for her friend’s behavior.

With the tea mostly drunk, she stood up and leaned forward, putting her chest directly in front of Potter. He ignored her.

“You have something to occupy your hands, then,” she decided. Waving her wand, the cup was emptied in short order, but the wizard seemed none too upset. His eyes did not leave the other witch for more than a moment. “Really? If any normal wizard saw me _half naked_ and Cho clothed, I can be sure most of the eyes would turn my way.” Her head cocked and she squinted. “Are you… passing?”

Marietta received no answer but thinking aloud had become a habit of hers. Perhaps all the hits to her self-consciousness made it easier to remove her shirt in public. She rolled her eyes, deciding that if her self-esteem, by contrast, had received any hits, it would have to be redirected, since she did not, in any way, take pride in her appearance. That sort of thing was the habit of lesser witches- witches nonetheless, but witches who lacked proper guidance.

Leaning further forward, she was practically on the table, and in a moment of frustration she grabbed Potter’s hand, but he responded with a disinterested punch to the forehead.

“What the hell, Potter?!” she screamed, applying a basic healing charm and blinking several times. “You _have_ to be passing!” He did not hit her terribly hard in her estimation, so the objective seemed to be the same as swatting an errant fly. Checking to see if Cho reacted the same way, she found the response was a swift knockback jinx, knocking her backward a few feet, someone shouting at the sound of the chairs clattering.

Marietta remained on the floor a moment, annoyed and needing to think, to reconsider. She cast a repair charm on the chairs, finding she had knocked a support out of the legs and dislodged one of the seats. It was not as if she had no courtesy, after all. Going under the table, she must have been channeling the witch and wizard she saw earlier, and she decided she would make a mockery of their disobedience, a biting parody of something she did not at any level want to do. Putting her left hand on Potter’s leg at the proper angle, he might even think it was some sort of invitation from Cho, who would do no such thing- and certainly not play coy about it in the infinitesimally likely event that she did.

Her reward was a kick to the chest, which hurt more than expected, but she could still tell he was hardly kicking at full force.

“That’s right… you’re aware that I’m a female- no need to hit me that hard, no, I’ll give up and go away if you swat me…” she muttered, deciding a healing charm was unnecessary. “Well, you shall see exactly which stereotypes are real and which are not.” She decided putting her hand on Cho’s leg had not been a good idea, since she would be able to tell it did not belong to a wizard. Their hands, after all, were forceful and rough, and there was no witch in the world who could want that.

She had a thought to change course again, but it appeared to be useless, since they were leaving. Huffing, she supposed they might well have been the hardest targets in the establishment, with other wizards easier to charm with prehistoric pleasures, so committed was Harry Potter to playing the long game, choosing a probability of sex with her former friend over a feel of her chest. It might have been preferable in the early stages of the plan to have witnesses around, but it was apparently not going to work if one of those witnesses was the girlfriend herself.

Getting up, she grabbed her cloak so as to have some discretion about when to reveal herself, but keep it from being the height of inconvenience, at least for the evening. Marietta was not about to give up so easily, going around to other tables to see if any change could be reported. Trying various tactics, it appeared the wizards were mostly not responding to her bare breasts, but it was quite possible the witches had shown a lack of discretion and revealed their own at one point. While she mostly received no response while standing unobtrusively, when her advertisement became annoying to them, they either pushed her away manually or with a jinx, though one wizard had the nerve to twist her nipple as he shoved. Lying on the floor again, her contemplation reached the conclusion that it was not as if there was an upper limit to the violence they would exert on a non-person- they would kill a doxy with or without thinking about it, it was just that going through all that trouble seemed unnecessary when the average female could be put out of sight so easily. Before being stunned at one table and spending the night on the floor, it occurred to her that most witches probably couldn’t fathom being treated with such rudeness, that even the hideous or wholly uninteresting could expect to be politely entreated to go away.

Waking up at last, she remembered she was not wearing a shirt rather quickly, but it appeared everything she left at the first table had disappeared. That event may have been an interesting case study in the possessions of a non-human being worth something when they left her possession, but she was too vexed to care about it at the moment. Going back up to the castle, she pulled her cloak tightly around herself, deciding that if her human status were restored all of a sudden, she would have other ways of realizing it than having everyone stare at her.

The term would end soon, and she would have thought to have everything resolved before her exams, but it appeared there was nothing for it. She could try to seduce one of Granger’s friends, preferably one without a witch with whom to play the long game, proving one of her companions was indeed one of the lecherous, detestable variety, but it would likely still be a challenge to get her to accept the results. She was evidently suffering from self-imposed delusions that her friends were decent wizards, and really that such a thing existed. It was possible, of course, that Potter was actually passing, though she said it in frustration without really thinking of it. It was also possible he was a shy, awkward type, who simply did not know how to respond to a bare chest, a truly laughable notion. Either explanation for his behavior would also explain why he chose to associate with Granger, since one could easily rule out sex appeal.

Catching them at last in the Leaving Feast, since they seemed to make themselves hard to find, the three of them were looking somewhat down, meaning it was a good time to strike. Their conversation was quiet and serious, despite the fact that Gryffindor won the House Cup, again, for something they did in the last few minutes of the year. She took stock of the young wizard sitting opposite Potter, next to Granger. He seemed to be related to the recently and quite wisely expelled Weasley twins, and his accent sounded more or less the same.

Sitting cautiously next to Potter, she exposed her chest to the red-haired wizard, making him look a moment, and right in front of Granger, no less. It was clear enough that he could see her, but it appeared nothing happened as a result. There was no corrective measure from the witch opposite her, nor was there any acknowledgement that her friends were both boors if they would briefly look at breasts if bared right in front of them. Annoyed, she got up and walked off for a last trip to the library, making duplications of presumably helpful passages in books, as she would be unable to check out anything over summer holiday.

Going home required her to veritably sneak onto the train, and it constituted something of a defeat, but there was nothing for it. She would have to either fix her own problem, or return for her final year and prove that Weasley was most certainly not a decent wizard, if such a thing existed. Confident in her abilities either way, the problem would at least be resolved before she started applying for jobs, though she had hoped to get an internship before.

Contemplating her revenge against Granger for such an inconvenience, she decided at length it would only be fair for the witch to be subjected to the same treatment, since the punishment was assigned incorrectly in the first place. She and her friends belonged in Azkaban, if that was the penalty the court assigned, though it only seemed likely they would have been expelled. Earlier in the year, after all, Potter had caused quite the row in a muggle neighborhood and got off entirely without punishment.

Practically scowling at the thought of it the whole way home, she walked from the train station to a bus, where she had to resort to something otherwise unthinkable to get on without being shoved off. The driver was not satisfied with seeing her chest, insisting with a hand motion that she flip up her skirt. Finally getting home, she found the doors were locked and her parents were perfectly non-responsive to her knocking.

“That’s fine, mother, father, I was just getting sexually harassed because I did not have the fare,” she muttered, casting an unlocking charm. Marietta was reasonably certain no muggles could see her, and she could blame it on her parents if an owl came with a warning letter.

She went up to her room, doubting she would return except to eat, and proceeded to pour over every bit of magical theory she had in her possession for the next few weeks.


	3. A Dream in Summer

Her dreams were fitful and vivid; they did not leave her when she woke as they had many years ago. After a day of following her parents on some joyless trip to the shopping centre, she collapsed onto her bed and waited to lose consciousness.

She was in Diagon Alley, a place she had been numberless times, or so it felt, and decided to stand there in the streets, where she knew she was anonymous. Marietta wanted it to be one of those dreams where she was a person again, though she had not had one recently, but as long as she could not be sure she preferred not to know. In the streets everyone was anonymous, rich or poor, good or evil, beautiful or ugly- the faces in the crowd meant nothing to each other. Perhaps it would be odd one day to be on the street when no other people were out walking, but it would be no different in any meaningful sense. A witch or wizard was always alone when surrounded by strangers.

As the sky darkened overhead, the crowds thinned, and she elected to step into a pub, following the thickest mass of people she could see and what little remained of her plausible deniability. It was hard to maintain the illusion as she found herself pressed by the crowd, though it was tenuously possible they treated everyone this way.

At the bar, however, the truth revealed itself. There was space enough for people to breathe, but they ignored her. She expected that if she tried to steal a whole bottle someone would curse her and she would wake up, but it had happened often enough to where she had taken to charming herself before bed. At night in her room could not possibly count as a Statute of Secrecy violation, and she expected that serving her with a waring would likely cause more of a disruption than anything else. In lieu of trying to steal something from behind the bar, she picked up an unfinished drink and downed it in one go, the solution going to her head immediately.

“That’s right, this is a dream…”

Sitting next to her there was a witch with a normal look about her, neither extreme of beauty described her, but the wizards with a few rounds down could not tell the difference. The anonymous witch pretended not to notice the overt propositions, but it was perfectly clear she was not amused by them. Marietta felt a pang of sympathy over the plight of unwanted attention, but her only experience with that seemed a distant memory already, like how one could pine for heat and sunlight in the winter after cursing it all summer. For her there had been winter since Granger’s curse took effect, and no sunburned witch looking for something cool to quench her thirst could keep her from wanting a change in the seasons.

“Come off it, lass; must be there’s a reason you’re here,” someone muttered, his words only just distinct. “Can’t be the refreshments; don’t look old enough to have something to forget.”

“Oh, you’re flattering her,” the ignored witch muttered. “She’s at least thirty and you can tell, even… pissed as you are.” The language was unfamiliar on her tongue, but she supposed she had done worse. It was not as if anyone would pay attention to her indecency, under any circumstance.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” another wizard asked. Marietta did not have to look up to know he was not talking to her. “Happens you’re a dead ringer for a gel from Bristol, you are.”

The witch rolled her eyes, nodding to the bartender as a bottle levitated itself to her glass.

“At least answer the question,” she suggested, knowing no one would care. “Just say you’ve never heard his voice before, if you haven’t… well, he might turn that into something else.”

“How about this, then- we’ll have a bit of a duel, unless you wouldn’t want that, and if I win, all these dobbers have to leave you alone.”

An eyebrow went up. It was not an outright refusal.

Marietta sighed loudly as the wizards lined up, the atmosphere friendly and the encounter unlikely to harm anyone.

“Are you serious? You don’t even know anything about her except what she looks like!” she objected, the sentence finishing quietly. “Though I suppose that’s enough for some- even enough to actually start fighting over it- not that you needed an excuse.” She took another drink, this time stealing it from the other witch, who had turned to watch the bout. The alcohol went to her head again, which fit, reminding herself she was dreaming. “Maybe I’ll finish a thought without changing tracks,” she muttered.

The wizards attempted a few spells at close range, sticking to the basics at their inebriated state. The confidence of he who proposed the duel seemed justified; he was handling himself well against the first opponent, but she doubted he would win so clearly no one else would take a chance. It seemed everyone else in the pub was at least watching, if not cheering and whooping. She took another drink, wagering one of the singles would buy the witch another.

“Oh, come on, are you really approving of this?” she asked, her voice moving up and down. “Are you really taking pride in your ability to fight? Are you… cave people or something?” She turned to the witch. “What, you want to be dragged off by your hair? No, I can tell you’re annoyed. You can’t hide it from me!” As expected, a wizard bought her a drink, and she rolled her eyes. “What?!” Marietta shouted. “What is it that you want? You want them to pay less attention to you? Well, that makes sense; you’re practically drowning in it!”

She fought with her cloak, finding she had dreamed herself in limited costume. Muttering obscenities, she had it off and waited for heads to turn. Instead the wizards in the bar continued to entreat the sensibilities of the witch who was plainly having none of it. Her head whipped around as if to gain some sort of clue as to why they could not notice her in such close proximity; surely, they could even smell her-

“I’m right here- Merlin, she has to be at least thirty what are you- you pouffs thinking?! I’m legal- do I not look like it?” Marietta grabbed a glass and threw it at one of the wizards watching the fight, but he dodged it without looking whence it came. Groaning, she threw up her hands, looking around for someone drunk enough for the curse not to have any effect, someone who would not be able to see her as enough of a person for the other witch to seem any different. There were a pair of wizards having a bit of a contest, slinging glasses of cheap ale back and forth.

“You’re abou’ finished Carrigan, jes stop pretenden’ an we can all get oudda here.”

“That’s a place to start,” she muttered. Making her way over to the table, she had to painfully squeeze past a few people, which hurt her chest more than expected. She presented herself to the wizards in between rounds, casting a light charm over her head. As it seemed they were more interested in playing an alcoholic’s chicken than looking in her direction, she got down on her hands and knees, not knowing quite what she meant to do before doing it.

“What’s tha’ under there?” Carrigan asked, likely feeling her hands on his thigh.

“What the hell am I doing…” she asked herself, not expecting an answer as she nervously moved her fingers to his manhood. He seemed to shift somewhat but was not opposed to the arrangement. She heard another glass slam on the table as she touched him properly, deciding it was easier than it would have been with someone like Potter, and easier still in a dream. She gulped as she waved her wand, his trousers coming open on the second attempt.

“Thasssa proper lass, that…” the inebriated wizard commented before taking another drink. It was the first time anyone had acknowledged her existence in months.

“Well, you should have something, I suppose… especially since this is a dream,” Marietta said, taking hold of his manhood and feeling feverish. He was not an ugly or loathsome wizard, but rather normal looking, if she could tell he fancied a depressed state of mind. With a basic notion that the idea was to simulate the feeling of penetration, she moved her hand along the length, finding his thick skin moved more freely than expected over the hardening organ. The motion of it and the thoughts running through her mind were making her sick, as she should have guessed; her head was as hot as it was light and she felt as though she could not have stood if she wanted.

A slight groan was the only response from Carrigan, though if anyone else noticed, there was no audible sign. She kept her efforts up, arm tiring somewhat as it was taking longer than she would have thought necessary. Silently guessing that the simulation was not exactly perfect, she resolved to keep going until he was satisfied, though not because she wanted to hear it out of him or anything. It was not as if proving herself an equal to any other woman to a man who was pissed out of his mind would win her any great degree of self-confidence.

It frustrated her as she realized the witch at the bar not only had human status, but beauty as well, even if Marietta could maintain she was only average out of spite. By contrast, she had no beauty at all; she had the fact that she was female; she would have given anything just to have an appearance; perhaps they would even see her as a marble statue if she looked good enough. In her vexation she noticed she had started to pump the fleshy rod rather vigorously, and the wizard even moved forward somewhat, though unless that was an unnecessary request for her to continue, she had no idea what it meant.

As another drink slammed down on the table, indistinct words came out of Carrigan. She continued pumping, getting somewhat closer rather than switching arms, almost wishing she had a charm for the occasion.

“But that would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” she asked no one in particular as she cast an odor removal charm, a less noticeable version of a scourging charm, with much the same effect. The pungency of it had been getting to her, almost making her head spin. It was positively gross, definitely more so than the scent of a witch, not that she had any desire to put her face anywhere near a skirt, even in a dream. “At least it’s too dark to see…” she muttered.

Breathing through her mouth, she felt herself move forward involuntarily, her danger reactors going off a moment too late as she had a gag reflex, her face full of an unruly matt of hair. In need of air, she dropped her wand and tried to physically push herself off, but as soon as her mouth was almost free, she felt herself being jerked forward again. The realization that the bastard was using his wand came over her as she went back out again, only to be thrust back into the matt of hair. Marietta forced herself to breathe through her nose as the wizard continued his uninvited campaign on her throat.

She continued to go up and down the shaft with her mouth, managing to get enough air to retain consciousness as Carrigan’s rival was taunting him about losing the very same.

“Vision getting’ spotty, old boy? Reckon yer eyes’ll be rollin’ soon.”

As she felt a contraction coming from within his body she kept the effort up, realizing she was moving all by herself. She might have wondered how aware the others were that one of the competitors in the drinking contest was at a particularly welcome disadvantage, but she could not have cared less. Wanting to be done with it, she put a hand to his balls and considered giving a bit of a yank, but she felt them move in her fingers, as if retreating momentarily as a hand grabbed the back of her head. The wizard’s manhood strained as she felt an odd sensation at the back of her throat, realizing his discharge was caroming down, causing her to gag again, impulsively wiping her mouth as it was at last vacated.

Groping around on the floor for her wand, she took hold of it and had half a mind to curse the wizard, but her efforts still had the desired result. Someone addressed her. By being more useful than the other witch, she managed to detract a part of the attention, and she could be perfectly sure that Carrigan, while inside her mouth, could have not possibly focused on anyone else. Summoning her cloak in the event and probably vain hope of regaining her human status, she wrapped it around herself as she refused to rise from the floor a moment.

“Wizards are so easy to manipulate,” Marietta muttered to herself, desirous of a glass of water, or anything that would get the taste out as she got to her feet. It seemed, against all odds, that Carrigan had won the contest, if only to pass out a moment later than his opponent. Steadying herself, she downed a glass of whatever was on the table, remembering that relief was supposed to have a relaxing effect on the male from reading about the behaviors of magical creatures. The books were not terribly interesting to her, but, well, they said it paid in the long term to have high standards for academic excellence, and consequently she would remember lines from books for no apparent reason.

Looking around the pub, she saw no trace of the witch from before, meaning she had most likely left alone, since none of the wizards could have impressed her terribly, not that she was impressive herself.

“Well, as long as they both - _hic_ \- had low standards, that should not present an issue,” she observed, feeling the alcohol get to her. She was not, by any possible measure, a heavy drinker, and took no pride in that sort of thing besides, so it came as no particular surprise that she was losing her footing. Shrugging, she decided the best thing to do in a dream was to go back to bed, unless the sleeping charm wore off first and she just woke up. It was hardly worth wondering if she could fall asleep within a dream.

As she staggered out into the street, she realized they were mostly empty, which was nicer than it would have been before. If the streets were full, there was no way of telling what kind of dream it was, but with that established, at least she would not have to see people stare right through her. She took the floo back home, trudging up to the shower as always. It seemed her cloak had absorbed some lager and would need to dry out, but her skirt was mostly fine, or it would be after a regular wash. Her pants, by contrast, must have been soaked with some type of alcohol unrecognizable by the pungent scent, meaning they would need a greater level of care, most likely.

Getting in the shower at last, Marietta felt like opening her mouth under the head, but she doubted it would make her throat feel cleaner and she knew she only had so much hot water, which was just how life was, living in a muggle area. Cleaning herself as always, she washed her hair with everything she had. Realizing she could probably just steal new products from muggle department stores, she mentally shrugged and put up with the requisite law-breaking. An adult in the magical world, she was still at an age where her parents would buy most things, and failing that, she would not fault herself for temporarily stooping to theft while the curse was active. It was not part of the letter of her punishment, after all.

Letting the water run over her a moment, she remembered to pay special attention to washing down there, as it were, since she was covered in some kind of viscous liquid, which had even gotten inside of her somehow. Wiping the outside off with a wet hand was easy enough, if it came with a somewhat unexpected and therefore unpleasant sensation. Cleaning out the inside as she let the shower wash out the remaining solution out of her hair required her to put a finger inside of herself, which was completely against the spirit of the rules; she had never done it before. Going slowly around the rim several times, to be thorough, of course, she could only imagine the kind of unpleasant experience penetration was; it was a wonder that anyone did it except to reproduce. In the spirit of doing the job well, she started again with two fingers, finding the first was not quite long enough to clean herself. Finding what must have been a cluster of nerves, she ran over it several times, getting more and more of the feeling she did not quite like.

Extracting her fingers to wash them, it seemed they were covered in the same pungent liquid, and she decided that it was more likely she was producing it as some kind of defense mechanism than it having come from some external source. She also found the water had grown cold, though she had not noticed. Getting out and drying herself off, she started with her hair and skin as always, but paid special attention when drying down there, finding the towel smelled after that.

Deciding being a witch was a messy experience, at least when it came to things she had absolutely no desire to do in the first place. Fortunately, by first or second year most female Hogwarts students could have a ward applied, if it had not been done earlier by their parents. The ward would vanish internal bleeding, which was symptomatic of a quite common condition, and one that was ultimately no reason to worry, though it came with various sensations. There were charms for everything distinctly painful, to be sure, but she would have to brew a potion to make her days of symptoms the same as any other days, and without voicing it, it seemed witches the world over agreed that it was not worth the effort.

Collapsing into bed after throwing on a nightgown, she expected to wake up with a headache and some particularly unpleasant memories, if what she currently relived was any indication. Worse, she might have even more dreams like the one she reminded herself she was currently experiencing, wherein she would have to compete with more invented witches to prove her humanity, or perhaps that the desires of the wizards in the pub were exactly what she thought they were. Her parents had cautioned her some about young wizards, saying they were mostly fine when they were past thirty, the best time to marry, but before that they were best avoided.

The rules were as followed- she was not allowed to have them over; she was especially not allowed to go to their places. It was commonly known that witches had more to lose than wizards, so the unspoken saying was ‘your daughter, your problem’, rather like how the allergic were meant to watch out for their own allergens. Secondly, wherever she was located, there were locations on her body no wizard was to touch under any circumstances. It would not be painful, exactly, but it would be profoundly unpleasant, and the moment she allowed a single finger where it obviously did not belong, she would be tacitly allowing everything. She never asked what everything was. Thirdly, she was not, for any reason, to inquire, read, or speak about wizards or romantic matters where it did not specifically relate to what she was required to study.

The guidelines had been few, but the idea was that she would logically extrapolate a spirit to the letter of the rules, that it would not be necessary to specifically forbid everything that was patently bad for her. She had expertly and almost reflexively avoided violating the rules thus far and took some amount of pride in doing so. It was easy enough to avoid talking about the rules with any of her female friends, since she presumed they were under similar systems, but she never failed to turn up her nose when she saw a witch with lax parents.

One of her worst memories from the days of human status had been seeing a boy and a girl kissing at the end of a long corridor, mistletoe hanging overhead. Marietta gave them a small amount of credit for finding a relatively empty area, but she did not share Cho’s notion that it was a charming sight. For that matter, she could not understand how her friend at the time did not find wizards gross in general, but they only discussed the matter once.

“They’re not as bad as they seem,” she had said, looking over her shoulder. “I for one find Cedric a bit fascinating.”

“I’m sure it’s a morbid fascination.”

“He’s been a perfect gentleman, you know,” Cho continued. “He hasn’t done anything undue.”

“So, if you spend time with a wizard you can almost be certain he’ll behave as well as a witch?” Marietta had prepared the reply since the last time her friend had assured her of her date’s good nature.

“Oh, come off it. The best part is if he doesn’t behave himself, it will be all his fault.”

“Well, yes, to be sure, yet, why exactly would you want there to be some probability that he would not behave?” she asked, rounding the corner to keep up.

Cho answered this question with only a smile over the shoulder, and like that the conversation was over.


	4. An Eventful Return

Having the idea at some point to use Legilimency or perhaps a Pensieve memory to get someone to listen to her, she put down her books at tried to think of how it would realistically work. The first option would mostly just take her on some confusing journey through someone else’s mind, and consequently would not be much help in communication, but it seemed easier to implement than the second option. She would need to find a Pensieve, extract recent memories from her head, and then put someone else’s head into the artefact. According to what she read, this would enable her to show people things from her perspective, and could possibly get around the curse.

Marietta would be going back to school for her final year, and by that she meant she would be walking onto the train illegally and getting off when it stopped, which meant she was violating more laws, but most importantly it was her last chance to have everything sorted. She had just turned seventeen, meaning she could be certain of her ability to cast spells without setting off the Trace, but she knew not if she would be punished for the occasional bit of magic she used without her human status, or if she could apply the necessity defense.

In either case, she was on the train with her things in a matter of days.

It would be a significant embarrassment to break the curse and have everyone remember what she did before, but it would still be better than being cursed, and at some point she would be away from the school and no one would see her again. She threw her schoolbag into a compartment with a couple already in there, waving her wand to have the door shut behind her. It was futile to try to find an empty compartment; the train was practically designed to make the students sit with each other, and if she did find an empty one, someone would come in and sit on her. Marietta noticed that they were Weasley and Granger of all people.

“What a small world,” she mused.

The witch and wizard across from her were acting like platonic friends, which was a relief, but as two more students, a pair of wizards who also seemed like friends, came in, she would have to decide where she was sitting again. Sighing and sitting on Weasley rather than have someone sit on her, she noticed the other two were Prefects, meaning she had wandered into the Prefects’ compartment.

Ignoring the conversation going on around her, she had an idea as the train started moving that she could prove Weasley was not, in fact, a decent wizard, and she could do it right in front of Granger. She felt a rising in his trousers beneath, but what surprised her was his hands traveling up her body.

“Are you seeing this?” she asked the witch as his hands started to feel her up through her cloak. Getting under it, they toyed with her nipples and fondled her rather roughly, which she bore, considering it was proving her point. Granger, however, had no apparent reaction to seeing Weasley behave in such a way. Neither of them had so much as broken eye contact, leading her to wonder if the curse had progressed in some way.

Remembering that she had been reduced to a non-person, Marietta realized that what was happening was likely only theoretical to the observer. That a wizard was willing to touch a witch only made him heterosexual, but as far as anyone was concerned, that was not actively happening. There were no witches whose cloaks Weasley currently removed, and therefore there was nothing he was doing that could be called inappropriate. Realizing what this meant as he levitated her cloak to the other side of the compartment, she jerked forward to grab it, but he held her still.

“No, no, please, I don’t want to go this far just to prove a point-“ she started, but it was perfectly futile. He used a sticking charm to bind her hands to the wall behind them as one of the other Prefects started to play with her bare breasts. “See, Granger? Look, they’re all like this! They’ll do it to you too.”

Despite her words, it seemed the wizards were in no way inclined to touch her, which Marietta would have liked to attribute to her plain appearance, but she knew that her life was not so fair that she could win contests of beauty, as proven by the night she was steadily realizing was not, in fact, a dream. It was unavoidable; the other Prefects respected Granger enough not to simply lay hands on her whenever they felt like it, and they likely respected her more than that, but respected all witches at least that much. What changed was not them, but her.

Mercifully, it seemed doubtful they would drop their trousers with the witch present, since she could still see them fine, but Weasley was already holding her against his manhood as the vibrations from the train went through him, into her. Right as it seemed the other wizard would never tire of her chest, he reached down and put his hand up her skirt. As she tried to twist out of the way, the Prefect held her legs open and the wizard holding her shifted her forward, aligning his manhood with her rear, a sensation entirely too weird to be allowed. Worse yet, the other wizard touching her through her pants was making her body produce the fluid again, though it was a failure of a defense mechanism; it seemed to encourage him, if anything.

Desperately looking over to the other wizard, he seemed to completely disregard what was going on, in the same way as Granger. She cursed herself for sitting on Weasley’s lap in the first place, especially when she already knew he had no respect for her as a non-person. Perhaps only a boor would slap her rear without being asked, but with the slightest invitation, there was no reason for a normal wizard to stop.

It appeared the reason the Prefect on whom she was sitting had shifted her was to give himself greater access. His hand went over her leg, up her skirt, and rested for a moment at the waist of her underthings; his other hand swatted the other Prefect away.

“No! Don’t touch me!” she cried, suddenly being silenced by the female Prefect.

“Honestly, Ronald, I was asking about disciplinary measures. I have little enough context for the mind of a young-trouble maker and I wished to know how your brothers might have responded to a week of writing lines.”

“Oh, sorry, reckon my mind was elsewhere. I think they might’ve laughed if you thought it’d deter them. Might be they’d trick an elf into doing it for them.”

Granger gave a disappointed sigh before carrying on the conversation, still ignoring her entirely.

Marietta was baffled. The two wizards seemed to have lost all interest in her, returning to the discussion as easily as returning to a train of thought upon being reminded of it. It was as if they had taken to staring at something out the window for a moment, but such a passing interest did not warrant any further investigation in the face of a moderate chastisement. Several minutes passed in agonizing inaction, her arms were getting tired from being stuck to the compartment wall; her nipples were starting to feel the chill of the breeze from the open window. She looked back and forth at each one of them, receiving nothing resembling a sign they knew she was there. In a lull in the conversation, she allowed her hopes to rise, but they were dashed again as someone asked if they would have to go back up and down the train before it reached the station.

“Really?!” she screeched, twisting. “That’s what interests you right now? I’m practically naked and you go right back to worrying about your responsibilities as Prefects? Not that that is not admirable- No! No, you have to-“ No sound was coming out of her mouth. Granger’s reply to the question was perfectly audible, and in no way interrupted. A few months ago she might have preferred to believe Weasley was not in any way a decent young wizard, but not it appeared she would have to believe the opposite, that he was so committed to his duties he could completely ignore her.

As they left the compartment, the cloak they had tossed aside was pushed closer to her, where she could grab it between her feet. Getting it onto her lap was not impossible, then raising her knee, she had it in range to pick it up with her mouth, then by half-standing she could get her head level with her affixed hands. Magically cancelling the sticking charm on one, then the other, she cancelled the silencing charm and let her tired arms collapse as the train stopped.

“Well, looks like I have to get off,” she muttered, throwing her cloak on. Marietta had no particular desire to cover her chest, not after the embarrassment she had already experienced; it would have even brightened her day a bit to see a second or third year wizard glance in her direction, if only for a moment. It occurred to her that today, there would be a new crop of students, the last she would see before she left- “The Sorting Hat! That’s what I need!”

Grabbing her things and running out of the train, she was the first to board one of the flying coaches to the castle, not caring if other students sat on her. Crouching in the middle of the floor, opposite the door, she was unlikely to be in anyone’s way until the carriage took off. Generally, committing a crime was difficult even in her non-human state, but once she committed it, she usually got away with it completely, since there was no one to be blamed for her actions. Stealing the hat would probably be unnecessary, but she would at least have to see where it was stored during the year, so she could access it regularly. Remembering that it was usually sitting at the end of the Great Hall when the first-years came in, she decided she would ask the hat where she could find it as she got off the carriage. With no need to wait behind everyone else, she was the first into the Entrance Hall, where it seemed Professor McGonagall was already waiting. Passing her, the Sorting Hat was already sitting where it would be later, true to her expectations. Her breath had not caught up to her excitement, so she slowed down as she approached the stool on which it rested.

It had been a long time since she donned the hat; she could only remember telling it she had already looked into the Houses since she was smarter than the others, and she would prefer to be in Ravenclaw. The hat wasted no time in deciding it was probably for the best. She sat next to Cho, who had been sorted not long before, and they were friends quickly enough. She did wonder, though, about the change that came over the other witch around fifth year.

Picking it up without sitting on the stool, she placed it on her head and waited.

“Hello. I was wondering if I could talk with you again.”

There was no response.

“I know this must sound profoundly unusual, and to be honest I am a bit embarrassed to be doing this, but…” she trailed off. “Are you ignoring me or can you actually not hear me?”

There was no response.

“I thought there was a direct mental link established to where you could sort through my thoughts and determine-“ Something clicked. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, my thoughts do not interest you.”

Tossing the hat on the floor, she took a seat and waited for students to file in. She was not starved, but it would be nice to eat something other than leftovers for once. The help would not recognize her as a human, but she had long since learned she could steal from anyone who was not looking at the time, even if the magically filling plates failed her. As soon as students did file in, she was treated to a stinging hex for being the only one who could have blatantly disrespected the Sorting Hat, though she could not determine who cast it.

After the feast, she went up to the dormitory without further regard. Despite having researched all she could during the summer, even going to Flourish and Blotts for the newest publications, something about Granger’s curse still escaped her. Curses in general were designed to be almost impossible to remove; each one seemed to have a slightly different way of going about it, and there was nothing as far as she knew that closely resembled the removal of human status.

Collapsing into bed, the memories of the day washed over her as they always did. She wanted a shower since she felt filthy, but she would have to wait either way. Taking off her cloak, she got under the sheets to wait, remembering that if someone else wanted a turn while she was in there, she might find herself stunned.

Her mind was tired and she wanted to sleep, but she decided to remove her pants from under her skirt, since they were filthy and it would be quicker getting into the shower when she had a turn. Remembering something from a book, she charmed her skirt to vanish unwelcome residue. It felt like she had read more in the last few months than she had in her entire life before that, despite her excellence as a student.

“Well, what would be the point if not for small mercies like this?” she asked no one, sighing. She still wished the punishment could be inflicted on Granger, at least, if not her friends as well. It would take a somewhat different form for them, of course; she relished in the thought that while the witch would be unable to gain any attention except of the sexual variety, the wizards would literally never have sexual contact with anyone. Touching herself purely to see if there was any residue, she imagined their stiff members pining for relief. Finding she was wet again, as if a defense mechanism against committing thought crimes, which she had not meant to commit at all. Marietta rubbed herself with the hem of her skirt, finding the liquid was being produced more quickly than it could be vanished. It would go away eventually, to be sure, but not while she was feeling this odd, unwelcome sensation. Masochistically, she presumed, she continued, rubbing herself directly where it felt the most sensitive, and therefore the most disturbing. She moaned in agony; her breath shortened as her fingers turned inward.

Hearing someone coming, she took her hands out from between her legs and waited for whoever it was to pass. Breathing moderately, she decided it was quite possible she would not put herself at too much risk by exposing herself… down there, and it might just prove what she needed to get Weasley to reveal his true colors.

“Have you heard about Romilda?” one of the witches asked.

“Fourth year… Gryffindor?”

“That’s the one. She’s been making love potions.”

“Love potions?” Marietta asked. “Those actually work?” They had always sounded like something out of a fairy tale. In truth, Potions was probably one of her best subjects, but she rarely researched it out of class. It hardly seemed relevant to her current predicament. While the others continued to talk about how despicable it was, it occurred to her brewing a love potion might be the perfect way out of her curse. Having Granger fall madly in love with her would be the most obvious thing to do, but it would be more amusing to have her friends fall in love with each other, while she could still get away with it. If they were, in fact, legal, she would not have to resort to the Imperius Curse after all, which she had almost entirely written off from the beginning, with it being unforgiveable.

The witch smiled to herself as she disrobed for her eventual shower. Potter and Weasley were in for quite the surprise.


	5. Amortentia

Horace Slughorn proved to be an acceptable teacher, but Amortentia would not be taught until later in the term, meaning Marietta would have to research it herself. She had her concerns, of course, about whether or not it would even work for someone without human status, but she would not be her first test subject anyway. No, for her revenge to be complete, she was not content to have Granger’s forgiveness and regain her humanity just like that, not while there was still more she could do. Staying up all night in the library reading, she broke into Professor Slughorn’s stores for ingredients as soon as she knew what she needed. It would not do to have him use them for something else in the meantime.

About a month into the term, having done the bare minimum for her other classes, she was confident in her ability to brew a permanent love potion. All the while she had been forming nebulous plans about how to use it, but there were problems with a few of the approaches. Making either of Granger’s friends fall in love with her could possibly be taken at face value, since it was incontrovertible that the witch was delusional. Marietta certainly did not want Potter to fall in love with her, with how Cho would likely interpret that- nor did she want him to fall for Weasley, since she already suspected he preferred the company of wizards, as it was the only way to explain his disinterest in her. Both approaches had the problem of not being connected to her in any way, which would mean Granger would not realize who was behind it.

It seemed far better to have Weasley fall in love with her. She could stand his pawing- it was not as if it was especially painful, and she knew there were ways to reverse it. It would certainly irk Granger, and she might not even realize there was a love potion involved. The best part was, he had a girlfriend as of a fortnight earlier, and it would prove, at least in effect, that wizards only cared about witches who were ‘putting out’. Stealing a chocolate frog, she put the completed product in the packaging with a note, and applied a repair charm to the packaging.

_Dear Lover,_

_No wizard is allowed to lay a hand on me, and if you love me, you will respect that. Merely profess your love for me and extol my surpassing beauty in the courtyard tomorrow, and you will be rewarded, perhaps with a kiss. Should you wish to humble yourself further, that will be your decision._

_Marietta_

It seemed a safe enough note, and they would be in a public place, so she doubted he would do anything rash. She found Gryffindor tower easily enough, having been there, and it seemed the Founder had thought it well enough to allow witches in the boys’ dormitory, which made things easier once she was through the portrait hole. Looking through a book on the legalities in her spare time, it appeared love potions were highly regulated in Britain and Hogwarts rules forbade their use, but it was only fair that she could violate the school rules if they could.

Waiting under a tree in the courtyard the following day, she had a thought to dress properly, since she would be human before long, but decided against it. Weasley would have a hard time finding her if he ignored the sight of her, which was quite possible. As she looked around, she supposed she had specified no particular time, but it would not matter, since there was always someone around to see. A Gryffindor witch came and sat next to her, most likely not aware of her presence.

“Where are you, Weasley?” she asked.

“Marietta!” the witch cried, throwing her arms around her midsection.

“Get off me!” she reacted, trying to get her wand out of her cloak with her arms held against her torso. She snaked one arm out of the sleeve as the witch shifted her hold.

“But you said it was okay, since we were both- what’s wrong? Do you not love me?” she asked, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Where the hell are you getting all that anxiety?” Marrietta replied, trying to get her wand. It was perfectly clear that she had drugged the wrong subject by mistake, but love potions were not supposed to give the victim anxiety; if anything subjects were meant to think the object of their fixation loved them as well. Unfortunately, as she tried to pull away, the witch tugged on her other arm, and pulled her cloak off. “Give me my wand,” she demanded.

The witch’s eyes darkened as she stared at her fully exposed chest. Seeming to take it as an invitation, she started to remove her own shirt, drawing the attention of passerby.

“Lavender what the hell?” someone asked.

“Hate to be cliché, but get a room-“ someone else started, looking around for the other person besides the Gryffindor. “Never mind, just don’t do that out here.”

Marietta went for her wand, but the other witch levitated both cloaks into the branches of the tree overhead.

“All right, I’ll have yours, then-“ she started, reaching for the wand that was available.

“Are you shy?” Lavender asked, casting sticking charms on both of Marietta’s hands.

“Just give me my wand!” she demanded again, keeping her fingers apart. The other witch responded by pulling her in, placing the sticky hands onto the base of the tree as she jumped. She cried in pain as her body continued with her hands stuck, but there were greater concerns. The Gryffindor had gone around back and flipped her skirt up as she leaned forward.

Wizards were starting to stare as Lavender smacked her on the rear. The witches were mostly averting their eyes, but a few of them were loudly telling them to ‘get a room’ or something like that. Marietta buried her face in the bark of the tree as the other witch removed more of her own clothes.

“Nice arse,” intoned a wizard, though he was probably talking about Lavender. Her own, to her horror, was starting to turn red as the witch continued to show her appreciation. The smacking stopped at length, but only so that her breasts could be fondled. Marietta did her best to keep her legs together, but since she was bent over, her efforts would prove inconsequential whenever the other witch tired of her chest.

She looked around and it seemed a veritable crowd had formed. To make matters worse, Potter and Weasley were among them. They stared, their faces shocked more than anything else.

“Lavender…?” Weasley started quietly. It seemed his girlfriend was ignoring him, her hands moving down Marietta’s body.

“Ron, she’s not- well, she doesn’t-“

“I didn’t think she did…” Lavender’s hands were getting dangerously close to the space between her legs.

“Please not there,” she whispered. “Anywhere but-“

“Then this would be unusual-“

“Unusual, yes, definitely unusual-“ he managed. “Can’t think of any reason except-“

“Did any of the chocolate frogs end up on your bed?” Potter asked. “I guess Romilda didn’t make all of them herself-“

“That doesn’t matter. We should really stun her before this gets worse. _Stupefy!_ ” Lavender’s body went limp. “Prob’ly be best to cover her up as well.” He grabbed both the cloaks out of the air and put them on his girlfriend. “Who the hell did this?”

“I would think-“ Potter gestured in Marietta’s direction.

“Right. What should we do about her?” Weasley asked. “Leave her arse like that?”

“I don’t care. This isn’t Lavender’s wand; she’s still got hers.”

“Reckon I’d better give it back then,” he decided, taking the entirely wrong tone of voice for what he was saying. Her hands were still stuck, so she could hardly reach for it as he marched over. Instead of dropping it next to her, however, he leaned over behind her and she felt an incredible pain and an overwhelming sense of violation. She let out a whimper as she looked back to see that they were taking the other witch away.

The handle of her wand seemed to have gone as far as her rectum.

Marietta’s humiliation was indescribable. She was completely trapped, almost entirely naked, bent over, and her wand was sticking out of her rear; she could just imagine regaining her human status like that, begging people to ‘please take my wand out of my arse and let me off of this tree so I can get my clothes, or the ones I brought with me’. Knowing begging would not work, she tried to adjust herself to the discomfort. She knew she could produce a shield that would reflect spells, and she knew that putting such a shield behind her would give her the proper angle to remove the sticking charm, the challenge was how she was holding the wand.

Looking around, there were still wizards who spared a glance at her backside, but there was no point in asking them to stop. Closing her eyes tightly, she managed the proper wand movement for a shield and a cancellation, only opening them once the sticking charm was removed from one of her hands. She immediately, gently, removed the wand from where it had been lodged, using it to free her other hand. Knowing advanced shields ad being able to produce them was one of the small mercies of having studied more magic than she ever would have deemed necessary.

Retrieving her cloak, she put it on again only because it had a warming charm applied to it, and it served as a way of carrying her wand while not in use. Marietta went to class though she did not particularly feel like it, taking a book on Legilimency with her. She read it during spare moments for the rest of the day, finding herself in the library before long. That the love potion idea did not work as intended did not mean it could not possibly work, so it was worth the effort getting the ingredients together again, but she had been by Slughorn’s office and found it locked and warded.

“Well, of course he knows someone stole from him,” she observed. “He was likely going to use one of the ingredients I took for a class, and decided to take precautions after that.”

In the library, however, there was another odd discovery. Several books on antidotes had been checked out, which suggested students were concerned about the same thing happening to them.

“I suppose they realized Lavender was under the effects of a love potion. Well, she should be fine, then, since everyone knows it was not her fault- not that it made things any easier for me.”

Marietta still shuddered at the thought of what the Gryffindor did to her and tried to do. She tried to tell herself it would have been worse if it had been a wizard, but at least that would have proved her point, and it was just an exchange of one kind of discomfort for another. She knew witches were substantially less gross, but the idea of touching one or being touched by one was anathema. Resolving to think no more on the subject, she researched until night fell, when she went back to the dormitory and showered, finding no one in the bath.

Getting into bed, however, she heard a soft moaning coming from across the room, and she guessed it was another witch torturing herself. She decided to ignore the sound, since it was close to the last thing she wanted to hear at the moment, and she knew she had to be asleep before long. With how late it was, she expected the other witch must have figured no one would hear her.

“Well, I don’t see why I would want to do that more than once, now that I understand it,” she muttered to herself. Marietta knew she could tell the other witch to quiet down, or at least make a noise to let her know there was someone else awake, so she could, in fact, be heard, but she was tired and decided against it. Similarly to how she had moved her hand along the drunk wizard’s member, she expected the idea for a witch was to simulate penetration, though she could not imagine why she would want to do so. The notion of a wizard’s manhood entering her sounded like the ultimate height of grossness.


	6. Memories of Innocence

Her research with Legilimency was getting nowhere without test subjects; it was something that had to be practiced. She would have to be able to control the whole thing with her mind rather than with incantations or wand motions, so she was still somewhat uncertain about how to ‘go in’ and ‘go out’. She needed an easy target, someone who would be in one place for a moment, so she picked a Quidditch player reading in the library. He was a larger Hufflepuff, and had a large stack of books at his table, and in all likelihood a long night ahead of him.

Sitting down close enough to see him, she gave the spell a try and found herself sucked into the young man’s memories. On the surface there was a barrage of academic information, things she either knew or knew to be wrong, but she ignored that. As much as she considered herself a spectacular student, what she needed was to be able to communicate with the subject. She needed the main continuity of his thoughts, memories, plans, and processing, and the books could only describe it so clearly without showing it to her directly.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asked herself, doubting he would do anything with her words but ignore them, if he heard them. Marietta continued to search, discovering a memory as if she tripped over something and landed in it. “Is this what you’re currently pondering? Nothing’s going on in this room-“ There was a giggle.

She was in a dark, small room, presumably in a muggle home. There was a bed in the corner, and the sound was coming from that direction.

“If this is her room- why is it in your memory?” she wondered. It seemed she was quite incapable of changing anything in the scene. Waving her wand had no effect. Moving closer to the bed, purely to investigate her surroundings, she saw a girl’s head come up for air, the wizard following her. “No, no- that is entirely too close to be allowed!”

From the wizard’s apparent age, she guessed the memory was from a matter of years ago, but its clarity indicated anything but. Their expressions held excitement, and a bit of uncertainty, and she attributed both of those things to their exceptionally poor upbringing. They had been kissing for a long time and the wizard started feeling the girl’s body. She was sensitive about her chest, keeping it under the sheets, but through them, the silent, horrified observer could see his hands moving other places. Their eyes had not left each other.

Marietta wanted to scream. She wanted to shout at them for their abysmal behavior, she wanted to have a stern discussion with their parents, but most of all she wanted to look away- and yet she found herself unable. Perhaps it was like watching a train wreck take place in front of her. In either case, she watched in horror as the wizard touched the girl beneath him intimately and the eyes closed. Her arms fell to the side as he went down, moving his head far below where it would have needed to be to see what he was doing.

“That’s what a wizard would do, though-“ she started inanely. “You would want to see exactly how you were violating her.”

As expected, the girl’s eyes opened, widening in shock, but they seemed to lack the horror in those of Marietta. Her hands reached down, but not to separate the wizard from her body as her eyes closed again. Her breathing became irregular.

The silent observer felt like she had to sit down. It felt like her defense mechanism was firing again, so she put a hand down there to stop it, nothing more. She had a moment of hope as the girl’s voice was barely audible, barely intelligible, knowing it was going to be an order, or at least a request to stop. Not hearing the word, she moved closer in case she missed it, kneeling by the bed.

“Come on, I know you were badly brought up, but please…” the witch implored, waiting for some kind of word from the girl as the wizard changed positions, his hand still down there. “Tell him to stop…” she requested, her hand on her own sex, moving out of sympathy for the plight of the poor girl.

It was the turn of her own eyes to widen as not only did the girl fail to refuse his existing advances, but invited him to continue unthinkably further, his hips moving forward as he laid himself on top of her, likely crushing her ribcage under his weight. They were still for a moment, the girl’s eyes shut tightly in what she knew to be pain.

“There! I knew it! He’s hurting you; there’s no possible way you would ever in your right mind invite that sort of thing. Stop opening your legs- there’s no need for that- use them to push him off you!” Marietta shouted. “Look, you’re absolutely dwarfed by him; there’s no way you can bear the weight.” As if only to defy her wishes, as the young and impetuous were wont to do, the girl put her arms around the wizard and nodded slightly.

It felt like an eternity before he started moving, if only because the silent, horrified observer was dreading it so. The boy and the girl stared into each other’s eyes, the better to ignore her indignant expression, which surely would have reminded them of the impropriety of their actions. The wizard seemed to be making some effort to be gentle, but how could he be gentle when he was so massive, how could the insertion of something so unnecessarily enormous be anything other than excruciating?

Marietta’s face was flush as her fingers moved. However much the girl earned them, she would not allow her to suffer her own mistakes in solitude. Her mouth hung open, unable to notify the girl that she was completely pinned for her own shortness of breath. It took no effort at all not to stare at the wizard’s broad shoulders or his rear in the next few minutes; she simply stared at the flittering eyes of the girl as her arms tightened their hold on the boy until she screamed.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her fingers furiously pumping a small, sensitive area in her body. The girl’s eyes opened and she stared into the wizard’s eyes as he extracted himself. They remained like that a moment until he collapsed next to her on his back, his throbbing member holding up the sheet. Marietta wanted to scream at him for doing something so scandalous, but he had to receive some amount of credit for getting out once the girl screamed in pain. She, however, stared at the shape of his manhood with a bizarre smile. At a look from the wizard she moved the sheet off him and lowered her head. Marietta was dumbstruck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, even as it was obvious. The girl played with his member with a hand, licking the end with her tongue. If she had any interest in punishing the tool that had put her through such suffering, she gave no sign. Her lips pressed against the head as her hand started to pump. The wizard seemed to be enjoying his respite as much as what was happening to his manhood. He went off in short order, his seed getting onto the girl’s face. They both seemed to find this funny.

The memory ended and Marietta was at last allowed to return to real life, collecting herself and looking around to see if her host had noticed. If he did, he gave no sign, though she found her body had definitely been aware of the experience; her otherwise bare sex had leaked all over her skirt, though the charm she applied would vanish it soon enough. She still had a feeling she could communicate if she tried, but it was too difficult with wizards, as they always had only one thing on their minds. Suddenly a Hufflepuff she recognized sat down across from her.

She had become accustomed to people sitting down near her as if they would enjoin her in some conversation, only to ignore her completely, but this particular witch seemed to have something in mind. She stared motionlessly as though trying to care about the ignored witch, but said nothing.

“May I help you?”

There was no response save the same glare she had on her face the whole time.

“Well, I might as well try to communicate with you,” Marietta decided, attempting Legilimency. Unexpectedly, she could not invade the witch’s mind even after two attempts. Squinting, she had a thought that she recognized something of Amelia Bones in the girl. “Oh, you’re a Ministry child as well? Susan, wasn’t it?”

As the witch maintained her silence, she attempted to invade her mind again, this time succeeding, at least ostensibly. She found herself in what looked like a basement.

“So you know my name,” the witch muttered as Marietta turned to see her.

“So you came here to help me-“

“Not really, no. I saw what you did to Lavender. She’s a good friend of mine, and now she has to explain to people that she was under the effects of a love potion whilst she was showing everyone her breasts and slapping your arse. She’s not a lesbian, you know. She has a boyfriend, and I happen to think he and his friend are going above and beyond by telling people she was only behaving that way until they gave her an antidote, but I don’t believe he’ll ever see her the same way again.”

“Then this won’t be a productive discussion. For the record, I intended to dose-“

“Does it really matter? Do you think a wizard would have enjoyed being manipulated like that? I happen to be friends with as many wizards as witches and something that might surprise you is that they don’t really discuss the intimate details of sex like some of us do- you’d think they would, but they don’t. There is no way Ron would have wanted any of that out on display.”

“Are you really attacking me for this? I was the one stuck to the tree; if anything-“

“Yes, I have some idea of what Lavender did to you in a half-hearted attempt to make you love her, fighting her instincts all the way. For the record, I think her boyfriend did a better job of making you suffer your part, but clearly you haven’t learned your lesson.”

Perhaps she was an amateur Legilimens, but Marietta knew she was at a disadvantage. It seemed opportune to make a tactical retreat.

“Oh, perhaps you noticed my mental shields when you first tried to break in? I have those up by default. They work both ways, so you’re stuck here. I could leave you in a little bubble and walk away if I wanted. In that bubble, I could make a thousand years pass in a single day. I could cast you off, somewhere deep into my own memory while your body idles in the library like the inanimate sex toy that it is.” Her eyes widened as the explanation wore on. “I see you’re beginning to realize your position here.”

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, putting her arms around her middle reflexively.

“Oh, I don’t believe I need to undress you. I find your slut-uniform to be quite apropos for what I have in mind,” Susan said, removing her own clothes with a wave of a hand. Marietta could not help but notice her large breasts seemed even more enviable when bare.


	7. Sapphic Violation

They stared at each other a moment; it seemed Susan still did not know quite what to do with her. What was steadily dawning for Marietta was that the other witch actually preferred the company of witches, making her wonder if the whole point was to show her that a sufficiently motivated witch could do the same if not worse to her than a wizard.

“What to do with you…”

“So all I did was make a mistake, then?” she asked. “If Ron had taken the potion himself, you of all people would not be here. I doubt his friends would come to avenge any imagined harm-“ Her voice disappeared.

“I suppose you might have done less damage to someone else, but you’ll remember that I don’t care. I don’t care about you, the fact that you placed yourself inside my mind is the only reason I can think of you for more than an instant. You severely damaged my friend. Do you not understand this?”

“It’s not a fraction of the damage that could have been done to her by any of the wizards looking on- I bet they all went back to the dorms right after that to play with themselves. In fact, if there had been no one looking on, she would have only needed to be grateful that she was not touching a gross, lustful, wizard-“ Her voice was gone again.

“I see,” Susan responded, an impossible calm in her demeanor. “To first address the bystanders; they were hardly the most responsible for what was taking place, and none of them could be quite sure what was going on or how to react to it. Harry and Ron were the first to realize Lavender was under the effects of a love potion, and they responded appropriately. No one was under the impression you were being violated because you do not have a will to violate.” She sighed. “I suppose most witches are somewhat more comfortable around other witches, including those of the majority preference, touching each other more freely than they would allow with wizards, including trusted friends. They are not in paralyzed fear of all wizards; they simply take less care in showing affection and intimacy when the stakes are lower.”

Marietta tried to capitalize on the concession that the other witch was making but found herself unable. It appeared Susan was not done speaking.

“Did you know, though, that they do not treat me with this same intimacy?” she asked. “It’s fair, I suppose; they would feel a touch weird if I were to touch them, even on the shoulder, because coming from me it would mean something entirely different. I don’t know if I’m more or less averse to being in close quarters with strange wizards.”

She wanted to say that that was immaterial, hoping her expression communicated it well enough.

“Perhaps I’ll show you what that feels like. You don’t yet know what it’s like to be touched by a witch who wants to touch you, only one desperately fighting herself trying to please you.”

Marietta tried to object, but found her voice was still silent and her arms were motionless. She collapsed to the basement floor, finding her legs had lost their function as well. A foot rolled her over onto her back.

“That’s much better, isn’t it? I suppose I don’t really want to touch you, but I assure you I’ll be getting sexual gratification out of it,” the witch said, crouching and running a fingertip along the bottom of her breasts. “I’m going to enjoy this in another sense, though, the cruel sense of knowing you will hate every minute of it. I can make your body react, but even after a thousand years the thought of sex with a witch will unnerve you. Your preferences are not something you can change, at least not at this point in your life. Be aware that I can also change your perception of time, so you might well be here for a thousand years.”

The annihilation of her argument began with a kiss.

It was not a friendly kiss or a joking kiss, it was a mature, sexual kiss; Susan’s tongue played with her own, wrestling with it, forcing it to engage; inviting it down a path she knew she did not want to take. It was aggressive and forward, but not the least bit masculine, a frightening abnormality estranged from her desires, kept under lock and key though they were. The witch’s fingertips gently grazed her breasts, forcing her body to react, however little she wanted that sort of touching. Her hardening nipples made her captor smile cruelly, squeezing one as she needed the flesh of the other breast.

“Do you like this, Marietta?”

It was not a true question, as her voice was still missing, but she shook her head. Susan’s hands were going over areas of her body she had not even known to be sensitive, her arms, her neck… her face was growing flush and her breathing was already irregular. Her head dipped down to her breast, kissing her nipple as the other was being massaged, asymmetric physical responses confusing her brain.

“Really? You can’t appreciate that I’m not a gross wizard?”

Marietta’s head shook again as she found her legs were lifting off the floor. The witch massaged her lower back, her thighs, and every inch of her arse, kissing her all the way down. Parting her legs, she was soaked, her defense mechanism activating even though there was not the slightest risk of pregnancy, even in the mind of her captor.

“I have to say, Marietta, it doesn’t seem that way.”

Susan gently kissed her opening, the juices indistinguishable. There was virtually no difference between a wizards mouth and that of a witch, but she knew, with her eyes closed she knew, with her mind struggling to place anyone else between her legs she knew it was a witch who was violating her. Lips were replaced by a tongue, licking from the outside in, starting below her sex and licking upward, passing her opening and the little sensitive nub to the matt of hair on top. The tongue was replaced by fingers, digging deep into her body, deep in the warm, wet canal that was otherwise unexplored.

“Has it occurred to you that your body can’t tell who’s touching you?” the witch asked at length. “I suppose you would be able to smell my pheromones, but your body has no idea that these are not a wizard’s fingers in your sex; really it can only detect pressure and motion.” Marietta was in tears. “Your body is betraying you in the truest sense of the word. It’s giving me signals that it wants more, when I know you want less. I know you’re not the tiniest measure grateful that it’s not a wizard doing this to you.”

Her fingers probed and teased, finding sensitive areas inside of her as they worked. The hand was an incomprehensible mass of motion and pressure; her eyelids were forced open to see the witch, her own nipples hardening with arousal. The captive’s mind could only guess what she would be forced to do.

With no way out, she could only hope she would get used to it eventually, though there was no sign of that in sight, which she knew the other witch was actively proving. An electric sensation pulsed through her body suddenly, reaching all the way down her motionless arms and legs. The cruelty had returned to Susan’s constant smile at the sight of her reaction.

“Was that your first orgasm? Perhaps you didn’t realize they could be involuntary. I hate the thought of it, but I would think a wizard who knew what he was doing could do much the same to me.” Marietta was crying again, but the sensation continued to build in her sex and deeper in her body. “Oh, poor you- you know that Lavender wanted to sleep with her boyfriend when the time came, right? I rolled my eyes when she talked about how strong and leading he felt, and I told her I could see him pressing his chest against hers when they were snogging. She chuckled a bit, and told me yes, she knew he wanted her body, he would have to be an exception to most wizards not to, and a poor boyfriend besides.”

As her captor spoke she clenched again, knowing that the feeling would flow through her once more. She yearned to object, to interrupt-

“She didn’t mind that he wanted her, but she wasn’t stupid. She would not have given him everything right away; he’d have had to commit to her. In times of war these things seem to move faster, and they’re still young, so perhaps a formal ceremony wouldn’t have been necessary, but she would at least have to be with him long enough to know he really loved her.” The electric sensation pulsed through her body again. Marietta was desperate to close her eyes, but they remained open. “You took this from her. She would have loved to sleep with her boyfriend under the right circumstances, and now she’s afraid of being touched. I don’t know if their relationship would have worked. They didn’t seem to do much other than snog, but if they decided to part ways, she would not have had much trouble finding someone else.”

Marietta had three more orgasms over what felt like an hour, but her perception of time was at the mercy of her captor. She most certainly did not want them, but it was clear enough that others found such shock therapy pleasant- but the sensation was perfectly unwelcome. She was not in the slightest getting used to the touch of a witch, and her will was being subverted in the worst way. Fighting each release as it built, she desperately wished she could stop herself, but it was quite impossible. At some point Susan switched back to using her mouth, forcing another orgasm out of her before allowing her to speak.

“Please…” she begged. “I shouldn’t have said- I’m not even getting used to it, please…”

“I’m glad you’re beginning to understand. However, that your preferences are not something that can change is something most people understand, at some level. Wizards know they don’t find each other attractive. I asked someone who was being difficult once, and he told me he would never, not even for all the gold in Gringotts, touch a wizard’s cock.”

“Please, just stop… I can’t take it anymore…”

“Oh, you’ll find you can take it for quite a long time. Your little quim is meant to take quite a bit more punishment, it’s your mind that demands the punishment come from a cock. We’ll keep this up until you admit that.”

The next two orgasms came over her in an indeterminable period of time. She fought them with everything she had, she bit down on her own tongue, but they washed over her all the same. Her body continued to salivate as her captor changed positions several times, playing with the other hole, the entirely wrong hole, absentmindedly.

“I… I…” It was hard to get the words out.

“Oh?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you-“ Susan motioned for her to continue. “-or any witch. I can’t stand it when you touch me like that. It’s not getting any better.” It felt like some sort of dam was breaking in her mind. She genuinely hoped she was saying everything she was meant to say. “Wizards have touched me before, but at least that didn’t feel so… weird.”

“You can do better than that,” the witch commented, not extracting her hands, another finger getting close to the other hole again. “What does having sex with me feel like?”

“It’s… it’s awful. I can’t stand how feminine you are. I feel like my body is being misused… every ounce of me is saying ‘that doesn’t go there’ when you put your… long… slender… fingers inside of me-“

“You want it to be a cock, then? Is that all?”

Marietta knew she most certainly did not want one of those inside of her.

“I- it’s not all… your whole body… your voice… the way you smell-“

“Are you saying I smell bad?” Susan said, teasing her.

“No, it’s just… all wrong.”

“Hmm… say you prefer cock over quim and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

The captive witch swallowed before speaking. She could lie easily, so it meant nothing, but such language did not come easily to her. Steeling herself, since it would get her out of there, she resolved to say it and have it over with.

“I prefer cock over quim.”

The other witch frowned.

“Well, your punishment was not done anyway. You still have yet to experience what Lavender did.”

“What was all that, then?”

“I was only teaching you a lesson. There’s nothing more for you to learn, but you still have to suffer.” Her arms suddenly had feeling again. She was familiar with Susan repositioning herself, but what she was doing was entirely new. Feeling herself levitating, her captor positioned herself beneath her.

An idea overcame her and she jerked her hands to the other witch’s throat, keeping her against the floor with the force of one possessed. Her intended merely smiled, her throat failing to compress even slightly. She acted like she had something to ponder.

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I’m into that kind of play. You’ll have to do better than that to convince me you want to have sex.” Marietta’s eyes widened.

“Lavender had a love potion!” she objected.

“She had an incentive, yes. She was rather desperate to please you in the way she thought you wanted. Yours will be your freedom.”

They stared at each other a moment.

“But… well, you wouldn’t like it if I did it-“ she attempted.

“Oh, but that’s what will have to happen,” Susan explained. “You’re going to do to me what Lavender thought she was doing to you, only you’re going to keep doing it until I love it.” She smiled again. “You see, you have a way out, though she did not.”

“That’s only because I didn’t want her to do it at all-“

“I know. You also should not have tried to kill me.”

Another silence passed between the staring witches. The captive decided it was like the time the wizard put his cock down her throat unexpectedly; she would just have to do her best to please her captor, if she had less of an idea how to do that. Kissing her, in an attempt to mimic the obscene ritual just performed on her, she moved her tongue around inside the other witch’s mouth but kept running into the issue of not really wanting to wrestle with the other organ. Dragging her fingertips across the witch, she tried to avoid the breasts themselves, going between them and under them.

It was clear that what she was doing was not working, gritting her teeth though she was. She gently kissed one of Susan’s large breasts, which she at least seemed to appreciate, putting her captive’s hand on the other. Though she desired to hurt the other witch more than anything else, she pinched her nipple gently, reminding herself it was the only way out.

They stayed like this for agonizing minutes, her captor refusing to do anything to help her. It became easier for Marietta to put her hands on the other witch’s body, but no less detestable. Everything she was touching was all wrong, and she had not even started on the worst thing. She assumed what likely looked a more natural position on top of Susan, though no part of it felt natural.

“Touch my quim-“ the witch ordered as her breathing started to sharpen. She gently placed a hand on the entrance, finding it warm and wet. “-mmm, look what you’re doing to me… does that turn you on?” She knew she was being taunted, but she started to gently finger the witch anyway. Quietly, she supposed that if the other witch could force a few orgasms out of her, she could do the same, given enough time, even if her abilities were limited.

They continued until Susan demanded she use her mouth, if not in so many words. Hiding her grimace, she gently started licking her captor’s sex, hating the taste and smell of it. To make matters worse, it only made the witch wetter, which in turn coated her nose and mouth as she found she had to go further to get her to respond. Licking seriously, she held the region in place by putting her hands on the rear of the other witch. She felt the strength in her tongue start to flag as her captor finally had her first orgasm, and tried to switch to her hand, but suddenly found her head was held in place. Annoyed, she tried to make use of her fingers on Susan’s other hole, if only to tease the entrance a little, but her arms went dead again, indicating she preferred to give than to receive.

Desperately continuing with only her tongue available, it felt like hours before the other witch had another orgasm, and hours more before she finally relented.

“Ah, well, I haven’t been satisfied, but you’ve been punished,” the nude witch decided. “I’ll have something to tell Lavender now, and she might even let me put an arm around her to comfort her.”

A sad notion passed through Marietta’s mind, but it became irrelevant in comparison to being finally released from Susan’s. She woke in her own body, finding the other witch was getting up and walking away as she was trying to regain her bearings, which was likely for the best. She had not been violated in real life, which was good, though the cloak of her ‘slut-uniform’ as Susan called it was hanging open. Scowling, she set herself to looking for more books.


	8. A Final Attempt for Weasley

Revenge against Susan was going to be hard, but not impossible. It was apparent she had been trained in Occlumency and could likely defend herself in combat, but being basically invisible, Marietta could reliably make the first move. Another love potion would work wonders if successful, but it seemed likely students would be carrying antidotes more frequently.

For boors like Crabbe and Goyle, however, this would not apply.

She had some idea that they were quite possibly the thickest in the school, though according to some rumor going around the Slytherin witches, they also had the largest cocks. The word felt as unwelcome in her mind as it had on her lips, but she got used to being mostly naked at all times, so she could get used to that as well.

Brewing the potion again was taking time, so she skipped to planning out the implementation. Since she still had to have revenge on Granger, it made sense to brew enough so that they could be enchanted into having their way with her as well. She knew from the boorish sort that they were would take an interest in Susan, since she was attractive and had large breasts, but punishing the other witch would take some incentive. Referencing one of her books again, she realized it was not as simple as Polyjuice, which required a bit of the person the user wished to impersonate; Amortentia would only make the subject fall in love with the brewer. Love usually made people stupid in her estimation, and Crabbe and Goyle hardly needed any help with that, so she could probably brew Polyjuice on the side and have her intended victims take her appearance just after giving her minions the love potion.

Remembering that Lavender had only been able to assault her and get her wand with the element of surprise, she needed some way of giving the Slytherin wizards the upper hand. Being slow-witted, she doubted they would even win against one of them. Plans needed to be formed and potions needed time to brew, so she would have some time for other activities.

As much as she hated the loss of her human status, being a vengeful spirit was at least amusing. Because of the myriad crimes she had already committed and would continue to commit, she saw no other way of going about it than to have an explanation out of Granger and flee to another country before restoring her humanity. There were plenty of magical governments where she could work, and not graduating from an accredited school would not slow down someone of her resources. Punishing the rule-breakers would always be a futile effort if she had to abide by the rules herself; she knew that now.

Taking a break while the potions were brewing, she decided to have a go at Weasley. He had inadvertently avoided one of her plans, and that could not be tolerated. Whether it would restore her human status or not, Marietta was determined to prove to Granger that her friends were not, indeed, decent wizards, if such things existed.

It had been made clear to her that someone could violate her in front of a boyfriend or girlfriend without any suspicion of infidelity; doing so would be akin to having a sexual fantasy. She doubted that would apply for anyone inside the mind, especially someone who did not happen to have impeccable mental defenses like Susan. Inside his mind, she could plant all manners of desires, and she could even use a false memory charm on Potter to get him to remember her existence in the process.

Deciding to start there, she found them on the Quidditch pitch one winter evening, flying around in some practice drills. Mastering the charm had been difficult and it took time, but she was ready at last.

 _“Recordatio Mendax!”_ she cast, hitting the Seeker expertly. It bore repeating that months of not being a human had done wonders for the amount of time she could spend studying. Staring at the subject, it seemed he did not immediately react to her, but that was expected. She had implanted in him that she was a person, a few details about her like her name and House, and a basic idea of what she looked like, so the next time he saw her, he would address her at least.

It appeared they were landing and talking about something, so she walked onto the field, drawing her cloak to cover her completely.

“Oh, hi Marietta,” Potter said, turning to see her in the middle of his explanation. “What are you doing here?”

“Merlin, Captain, are you seeing things?” someone asked, not even looking in the direction he looked. It was a younger wizard with a Beater’s bat. She laughed to herself. It was working, but she was not finished yet. Seeing that Weasley was the Keeper, she implanted a few false memories in those around him that he had let every single Quaffle pass him by.

“Potter, a teacher asked me to have a word with your friend. Don’t wait up for him after you get changed.” Her tone made it clear enough, she hoped, that she did not want to be around them before that. He agreed without a problem.

After another twenty minutes or so, the practice was over at last, and the changing rooms were filled. She guessed the Captain would be the first into the shower and therefore the first to leave, so she cast a full-body-bind on Weasley while he was in the shower and waited for everyone else to vacate. Since she wanted his friend to double back, she planted a false memory that he might be forgetting something.

Freeing Weasley from the curse, she got to work on his mind right away. Sifting past a few sexual fantasies about Granger, she uncovered a desire for licking arses.

“Well, that’s disgusting, but at least it’s easier to plant false memories from the inside,” she muttered, thinking up more things to do. It would be amusing if she could plant a few in a much younger witch, so that he would be caught with her as well, especially since investigators would likely believe he planted them. She thought of her rival’s face when it all came out, how crushed she would be to find out her friend had his hand in the knickers of a thirteen year old, telling everyone who would listen that he could have sworn she was someone else.

At long last the preparations were complete, and for dramatic effect she summoned a broomstick to her hand, sitting backward on the handle. Weasley had a dazed, confused look about him for a second. He stared at her.

“Really? It’s all right?” he asked. “I… well, okay ‘Mione-“ he cut himself off, diving in and grabbing her by the rear, licking around the hole. She could already see Potter returning to the sight, at which point she would probably beg him to stop, and she could only imagine what it would do to the two of them. Perhaps it was not as effective as making Granger see it herself, but it would serve.

Realizing the Captain would never believe it was non-consensual as long as she had something she could do about it, she allowed Weasley to pick her up off the broomstick and set her onto a bench for changing boots. Grimacing, she also discarded her wand, deciding that her rescuer would come through the door at any moment.

To her surprise, the moment was taking longer than expected. She knew she had properly cast the false memory on Potter; there was no issue with that, so she failed to see why he did not return. He did not maintain his relationship with Cho, hopefully because she broke it off with him, so it was all but impossible he had anything more important than what he forgot in the changing room. She was prepared to bear it for perhaps ten minutes, but after that Weasley might actually start getting ideas about what other kind of behavior was acceptable.

If one thing was certain, she did not want him inside her, not even as his tongue entered her backdoor, punching in and out. It was completely and utterly naughty; there was nothing about it she enjoyed at all. Wandlessly summoning her wand back to her hand, which she had learned to do for circumstances such as those, she confunded the wizard as the time started getting past what she considered acceptable. The finale to her designs was at hand, and she would not be delayed by a Keeper’s tongue hitting sensitive areas in her arse.


	9. Honest Work

Leaving Weasley confused was hardly a punishment in comparison to what would have happened if Potter had returned, but apparently there was some business about Katie Bell being cursed out of nowhere. Her true enemy was Granger, of course, and her plans were finally ready to come to fruition. Marietta only needed to carry them out.

The false memory charm, she found, was not an effective way to restore her humanity, as it appeared Potter had already forgotten who she was, but no matter. Her plans would break her rival’s will, and the punishment for her friends would come in due time. If she bothered to check, she supposed Weasley would also lose the notions she implanted in his head, but the greater concern was the potions.

It was easy enough to give Malfoy’s bull boys the Amortentia; they practically took it out of the palm of her hand. Going to greater lengths would be necessary for Susan and Granger, but sneaking into common rooms and dormitories presented no challenge to her. Getting past the defenses by following someone else in, she removed the magical protections they set up for themselves with her peerless knowledge. Perhaps they had other concerns, but growing in magical ability had occupied every cubic inch of her brain in the last year or so. Marietta stunned them, put body binds on them, and cast disillusionment charms to make them invisible to the casual observer. There was a chance taking a look around their beds might have yielded interesting books, but it was not worth the risk. Whatever she wanted to know, she could have from the source.

The vengeful spirit had put a lot of thought into where she would put her two victims and eventually settled on the Forbidden Forest. It was filthy, it smelled, and it seemed like the worst possible place for any witch to have her first time, voluntarily or otherwise. She levitated the unconscious bodies there one at a time, taking the better part of a Saturday morning. The Polyjuice had been brewed to last hours, which would logically be more than enough. Once they were there with the potion ready, she stripped them and put their wands and clothes in a tree hollow, searching them as carefully as she could stand, but finding nothing. Crossing that off the list, she added a hair to the potion and gave a drink to each of them.

Mimicking the treatment she had received from Susan, she used a highly specific spell to disable each of their limbs, so Crabbe and Goyle would be able to reposition them as much as they liked, but they would be completely unable to fight back. She would use a silencer to keep them from screaming, but they were far from the castle, so that could wait. She briefly invaded both of their minds to be sure before waking them up.

The two witches looked around, semi-conscious and confused. She watched as they breathed incoherent questions, realizing they were naked and unable to move their limbs. Their mouths would have to be able to move of course, they would need to be able to take cocks there, and it was really no skin off her nose if they wanted to try to bite them off.

“Marietta?” Granger asked. “You did this!” she accused, going red.

“That’s right.”

“I knew you were a petty- bitch, but I never thought you would go this far.”

“That’s because you’re not as clever as you like to believe. Neither are you, for that matter.”

Susan was listening, she knew, but the witch said nothing.

“This kind of thing isn’t acceptable under any circumstances- you don’t seem to get that you’re being punished for what _you_ did!” For some reason she was keeping her voice down. Marietta guessed it was better not to let anyone know they were out there, naked and magically bound.

“You don’t seem to realize the High Inquisitor was punishing you for what _you_ did,” she responded, keeping her voice level. “We’re enemies. Don’t try to moralize with me and don’t try to argue when I clearly have the authority. What book did you use to curse me?”

“Oh, you’ve been looking the library all this time, haven’t you?” her rival guessed. “I never returned it; the whole thing about asking Madam Pince to clear my record was a red herring.”

“No matter. If it remains in your possession, I shall have it all the same.”

“I’ll never give it to you. You’ve only proven that you deserved a punishment much worse than the one you received.”

“Never is a long time, Granger. Did you know that if our guests come to see you like this, you’ll never be able to forget what they do to you? They won’t be able to help themselves, you know, their hearts bursting with love-“

“You bitch!” Susan declared, keeping her own voice quiet. “You brewed _another_ batch of Amortentia? Is that why you polyjuiced us to look like you?”

“I had time on my hands and it was easier than using Legilimency to convince them that you were two clones of me. They’ll come here, see you two, and they won’t look a gift Hippogryph in the mouth.”

Both of them maintained a wrathful glare.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“I don’t think she does, Hermione. She’s in complete denial of her sexuality, most likely from a sheltered upbringing that lasted way too long. You wouldn’t believe the kinds of things I had to do to her to even get her to admit preferences were real, and it still sounded like she was saying it through her teeth.”

“Well, yes, and now I’ll visit the same on you- and Granger for cursing me. I won’t stand by when someone breaks the rules, not any longer, and not if I have to break them myself.”

She took a moment to bask in her own accomplishments and feats of heroism. It had been a hard-fought battle, with as many ups and downs as there were stars in the sky, but her human status could at last be restored. She would flee first, of course, but with the book in her possession, she would finally unravel the secret. Crabbe and Goyle appeared across the grounds, approaching at a deliberate pace.

“Ah, well, I should have guessed they couldn’t move their feet more quickly than they can think. Make this easy on yourself, Granger,” she entreated, turning back to her hostages. “I may even be inclined to lessen your punishment somewhat if you told me the name of the book and where you keep it.”

“Hermione…” Susan started nervously. “You might be in favor of… well, going down heroically-“

“I can’t; I’m sorry. I burned it.”

Marietta frowned.

“No matter. I shall have to poison you with an unknowable brew, or kidnap one of your friends. I suppose your parents would never see it coming.”

Not wanting to be a third copy of herself in the field of view of the wizards, which might confuse them further, she applied silencing charms to both of them and levitated to the branch of a tree. Malfoy’s bull boys were not required to see anything other than what was directly in front of them, so she needed no further mechanism to conceal herself.

“Look at that,” Goyle said. “There are two of them.”

“I didn’t know she could clone herself, but I’ll not complain.”

Strangely, Granger leaned over to Susan and kissed her, causing Marietta to recoil, but it was no reason to stun them; she had only not expected it. It was quite possible the witch had no preference. Crabbe and Goyle seemed even more interested, if a bit confused, but she nearly fell out of the tree when she saw their disguises melt away.

“What?!” she screamed. “I know I made those last longer than a few minutes- you were supposed to be stuck with my appearance for hours!”

“I figured as much,” Granger said after she removed the silencer. “At first I was trying to delay until it wore off, but it seemed like you were in no hurry.”

“Then how did you do it? You must have done something!” she accused, coming down from the tree. It would be a challenge to plant false memories in the wizards to convince them she could not only clone herself but change her appearance entirely, but it appeared they had other plans. She realized a moment too late that screaming had given away her position and she was disarmed before even coming into proper view, at which point she would have cast a shield charm.

She scrambled away, trying to wandlessly summon her wand, but some unusual spell from Crabbe yanked her out of position and not knowing where it was did not help. A leg-locker later and they were on top of her, literally, reversing the same hex for better access.

“No, don’t do this!” she pleaded. “If you love me, go after them instead! I stripped them so that you could-“ Both of her arms were being held down and her mouth was immediately stuffed with cock. It seemed Granger was having better luck with summoning her own wand, since she could speak again. She first tried to twist out of their grip, but after a minute or so it seemed impossible and she would not be surprised if the witches managed to get themselves sorted before she could mentally invade the two wizards. Reaching out with Legilimency, it seemed someone else was blocking for them.

“You can’t do that!” she shouted, gagging on seed. One of them was fingering her rather roughly, and it was making her insufferably wet. Goyle, having already wet his cock, was content to hold her arms behind her back.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can,” Susan said, putting on clothes. “As soon as I got my wand back, I decided to put a mental shield around your head. You won’t be invading any more minds until you have that removed, and I have your wand right here.”

“Stop raping me-“ she started, remembering they were supposed to be in love with her. “Why are you-“

“I would expect because you teased them with two naked versions of yourself, and when a mostly naked one appeared, they took it as an invitation.” Granger sighed. “Knowing them, this is how they would think sex normally works. Had you picked anyone else, things might have turned out differently. To answer your earlier question, I have been carrying a bezoar in my mouth for a fair bit, making it soft. I broke it in half with my teeth and fed the other part to Susan.”

It dawned on Marietta that she had been one of the ones researching antidotes after the fiasco with Lavender. She already knew that the bezoar, homogenous, could be broken into parts and remain effective. Crabbe had moved his hands to her breasts, making room for his cock down there.

“You can’t let them do this!” she pleaded.

“I was concerned for their sakes a moment ago,” Susan conceded. “At the same time, I don’t imagine they’ll be particularly harmed by being used like this, and because they were part of the Inquisitorial Squad, I don’t particularly care. You’re too much of a coward to bite their cocks, but I’ve charmed them anyway to prevent any children from coming about.”

“I suppose, from a deontological perspective, I should not allow them to do this to anyone, but it seems my earlier punishment for you was not sufficient, and I cannot find any way to argue how you do not well and truly deserve this,” Granger said. Holding her legs apart, Crabbe entered forcefully, painfully, and without a shred of mercy. “Oh, how is it you know a contraception charm?” she asked the other witch.

“Lavender asked me if there was one in any of the books I read.”

Granger made an odd grimace.

“If it makes you feel any better, she was the type to plan for things far in advance, so I doubt she ever actually used it.”

Marietta had no desire at all to listen to the rest of their conversation, but as it faded away, so did her last hope of getting out of there.


	10. Just Reward

The contradiction of the physical nature of the experience with its mental nature left her mind broken as the cock sawed in and out of her. Remembering correctly, she had already had an orgasm, and the hands on her breasts did not become less pleasurable in their roughness. At the same time that she had never felt more female, she had never felt less human. Her will was completely subverted. It was so wholly irrelevant she could not persuade her arms and legs to listen to it any further, and limply they hung from her body. Marietta felt Goyle’s cock hardening beneath her, but somehow she doubted he would cut in front of the other wizard who loved her, as sick of an idea as it might have been.

From what Granger had said, that this was how they would believe sex to work, she supposed that they believed a witch’s consent to be irrelevant, which meant they were not the type to make notches on their belts, as it was the willingness that proved the Casanova type to be so sexually compelling. There was no achievement in what they were doing, and they likely believed sex to be the height of love, or perhaps its definition. Perhaps the reason for consent to be irrelevant was because they believed they would never have it, leaving them with only one way to vent their feelings, their desire to love and be loved.

The books said Amortentia could not create love, of course, and she saw the truth of it as her mind broke; what she was feeling was anything else; it was obsession, it was passion; it was need, but the wizards she had bewitched with her potion skills believed it to be love. She began to hope against hope that they loved only the version of her that made the brew, as that version was steadily being destroyed. Whatever would be left after they were spent would probably not resemble the object of their desires. As if to prove the point about breaking her mind, she lost her train of thought as another orgasm washed over her, and contented herself with observing the physical nature of the experience, at least for the moment.

Crabbe extracted his yet-throbbing cock from her quim, allowing Goyle to turn her over and force himself inside from beneath. His cock felt like it was wider for some reason; it stretched her differently before he even started to move, his hands kneading the flesh of her arse. Her darkened eyes made her aware of Crabbe walking around to her mouth, against which he put his cock. Marietta considered turning away or using her teeth, but the first would be futile and the second would come back to haunt her. Even if they were never released from the grip of Amortentia, their families would reduce her to ashes, though whatever damage she caused could likely be magically healed.

As Goyle started to move beneath her, she wrapped her lips around the other cock, tasting blood she knew to be her own as the head hit the back of her throat. She did her best to keep her head steady as Crabbe moved, fucking her throat- there was no other way to say it. Her next orgasm was interrupted by a finger worming into her arse, which hurt, but further increased the pressure on her internal walls as Goyle’s shaft repeatedly stretched them, the head hitting parts of her body she could scarcely identify. As she accustomed herself to the weirdness of a finger in her other hole, her body started building back up to its climax, she found her tongue moving around the cock in her mouth.

The orgasm washed over Marietta and she knew what her body wanted. She gave herself up and rode, feeling vibrations in her legs as they went numb, and both wizards climaxed within seconds of each other, filling her with seed. Crabbe held her head to keep her from dismounting, his eyes closing as he made her swallow. They were inexperienced lovers, but as long as they had something for her in their hearts other than contempt or complete indifference, she never wanted the potion to wear off. She knew it would, and from then on she would exist in their minds only as long as she could give them release, and she knew from experience the wizard’s orgasm was fleeting.

Running her hands over Goyle’s hard body as his spent cock rested inside of her, she had a desire to see him naked. He put his hands on her breasts as the other wizard went around again, her mind vaguely aware he had only gone off once. Putting his hardening member against her other hole as soon as his friend’s finger was out of it, he seemed disinterested in whether or not it would fit. He tried a few times before she got to her hands and knees, directing him to the less painful hole, using her mouth on the other cock. It seemed unlikely he would grow hard again, or at least as hard as he had been, but his expression indicated he was enjoying it. Crabbe was pacing himself behind her, but her body was already starting to respond.

Purposefully sucking Goyle’s cock, a notion passed through Marietta’s mind and she put a finger in his arse as one of Crabbe’s went into her own. The wizard was nearly hard again and she kept up her pace through her fatigue, bobbing her head up and down as she massaged him with her tongue. A minute perhaps, however much she wanted to stretch it out, passed as they played, and they each managed a final orgasm, collapsing into a heap after that. Her reading told her that it was not with love that they held her in their arms, but for the time being she would take it.

She refused to follow Susan around begging for her wand back, and she doubted it would even work if she asked Granger to restore her humanity, if it could even be restored. Taking a break from trying, well, trying anything except feeling meaningful to others, she managed to have sex with a few different wizards over the course of a few days. It was easy; she could do it in class, she could walk into most dormitories; she could even do it in the Great Hall. Weasley had broken up with Lavender, but she doubted that she would have responded to his having sex with her. As she discovered in Madam Puddifoot’s a wizard could have whatever kind of sexual interaction with her, even in front of his girlfriend, and it would not matter, because Marietta was not a person.

Having sex with Colin Creevey to get him to take a picture with his camera, she found she was visible in the photo, though it seemed unlikely he would care to look at it again unless it were a happy memory. His cock was a bit smaller than average, making it easy to fit in her arse, at which point he took the picture. Existing inside his memories, even artificial ones, gave her a small amount of hope in the futility of otherwise trying to fix her situation. Brewing potions without a wand was almost impossible, so one fateful evening, she found herself stealing some floo powder for a trip to Ollivander’s.

As soon as she reached Diagon Alley, however, she heard familiar sounds upstairs in the Leaky Cauldron and could hardly help but see. It was a Ministry official and a prostitute, locked in mutual oral sex. Removing what remained of her clothing, she recognized the wizard as Rufus Scrimgeour, and it amazed her that he could get away with this sort of thing. She crawled into bed with them, massaging the witch’s arse comfortably. It was not as if she desired witches, she knew, that was immutable, but she was willing to have some limited interaction to get things moving.

Noticing her presence, the Minister seized her, levitating her above him as he jammed his fingers in her holes. Perhaps it was more than he paid to receive, but he might have guessed she was offering her body for free. Perhaps he knew, somehow, no one would have paid for her.

Marietta waited her turn as the wizard changed positions, pounding the prostitute’s quim. She massaged his shoulders, kissed him on the mouth and stared into his eyes as he absently fondled her breasts, wondering what, if anything, he saw when he looked at her. Eventually the witch grew tired of being fucked, and Scrimgeour switched to her, though he surprised her by forcing it straight into her arse, which was painful. He hit her with some kind of calming charm to make her stop twisting but did not so much as slow down as pounding. She did her best to adjust as he set a pace, and gradually it started feeling better, though it was not by any means her preference.

The witch, apparently, was less than particular, sitting on her face and taking her mind off the pain as she licked, not wanting to make her angry. She had tried to steal a wizard’s wand at Hogwarts, but apparently making people even slightly upset could be painful for her, as he responded by grabbing her nipple and twisting it before stunning her. At long last the prostitute got off of her and a warm, bizarre feeling welled up from deep in her body. She breathed heavily and tried to relax as much as possible, realizing the other witch’s juices were still on the cock that was penetrating her, as well as her own. A slight change in the angle was what made it less painful.

The most embarrassing part of it was that she was starting to love being overridden.

Her orgasm was intense, and the Minister filled her with seed moments later, leaving her in bed with the witch, who wanted to play more. Marietta refused her, so she scowled and hit her with an unidentifiable curse before leaving. Lying there with liquid dripping out of her sore arse, she had some idea that Scrimgeour was good enough at keeping his head as to refrain from putting the same inside her quim. He could get away with sleeping with prostitutes paid to keep their mouths shut, well, after the fact, but producing a bastard child would be bad.

Getting the idea that it could make her existence meaningful, as she could be the mother of a wizard’s child, she slept with Malfoy inside the next week, but he seemed disinclined to use his cock, which was fair, given its dimensions. It was a forgettable experience that felt disturbingly close to what Susan did to her, though she gave him credit for trying. She gave up on the strategy, realizing she had been living as a succubus for the past few months and would probably just be killed rather than married, disgracing the name of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy.

Life as a succubus filled her need for human contact, recognition, and only depressed her when she had to look in a mirror. It seemed unlikely she would ever regain her human status, but that was well enough, since she no longer went to classes except to suck the cocks of the male teachers, as well as a few of the students she liked. She was glad to never have to try to fit the groundskeeper’s girthy member inside of her, though she did enjoy playing with it. Her physical needs were met, and she doubted the school would ever formally kick her out, since she knew how not to be found, so she kept it up through the next year, which added some interesting new characters, and onward. Perhaps one day the school would realize her existence, or perhaps one day she would die, but until then her existence would continue, and as always, she would make the best of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for reading this; I just decided to write this on a whim and I'm happy with how it turned out. Consider this both the final chapter and the epilogue, or a proper conclusion, whatever you want to call it. Send a message if you have any questions, I suppose. I wish good tidings and a happy fappy day in isolation to all you sick fucks.


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